Turning a page
by Umbrellas-and-jamjars
Summary: Skye has never had the best of luck, nor has fate always smiled down upon her actions. But of all the things to have happened, this really takes the cake. Sometimes, the unlucky just need to take matters into their own hands. Slight SebxOc much later on, temporary hiatus while it undergoes slight revise.
1. In which we meet a grumpy woman

**Chapter 1: In which we meet a grumpy woman**

**Well, this is my very first upload**. And it contains an OC...Dear me.

I understand the general taboo with OCs, so I've tried my best to make Skye as non mary-sueish and un-cliché as possible (except for, you know, the usual girl-falls-into-story thing, sorry about that.).  
But I reason OCs are a challenge to take on, because when writing an original novel you have no character guidelines to follow, and where better to practice than in a fanfiction – where you have the freedom of your imagination, and the guidelines of other's?

_theme for chapter: tuna fish, Emiliana Torrini_

Disclaimer: I do not, never have, and (unfortunately) never will own Kuroshitsuji, which belongs to Yana Toboso. Nor do I own Emiliana Torrini's music. Skye + co, however, are a part of my merry band.

* * *

If there's one thing I hate in life it's travel, which is sort of ironic considering the fact that travel is one of the necessities of my job. Most people would be thrilled by the prospect of being able to travel the world with very few expenses, but I remain an exception. I'm a homebody, you understand, I would much rather be at home with a cup of tea and a book. When I was younger, I'd often mentioned this to Mother, but her response was always the same, _'Now Skye, you of all people should know that life isn't always fair, most people would envy you, and here you are complaining about a fantastic experience. Hold your head up high, aye love?"_

The first time she gave me the 'you-have-a-great-job-embrace-it-with-the-pride-of-a-lion' speech I was overcome with the overwhelming urge to send her on the next flight to Ethiopia - see how she liked it. Of course I didn't, I love my Mother more than anything, and doubtless, she's right too. It's just that the chances I have of travelling –expenses taken care of by my benefactor- and not having to kill or maim someone are mind-bogglingly low.

No, you did not mishear me, but assume we'll address that matter later, alright?

Thankfully, today was one of those mind boggling days. Of course, that doesn't mean I'm enjoying today's travel at all, because I also happen to be one of those people whose ears always seem to ache without fail when flying. That, and flight attendants, flight attendants always seem to regard me with suspicion because my right eye is absent-without-leave, and in its stead is a glass eye and a gorgeous, large scar over my forehead and cheekbone. I suppose it's fair enough, being unnerved and all, it's just that I – being human, and therefore self conscious with good reason, honestly wish they'd at least be a bit more subtle about it.

I muttered irritably as my ears kindly reminded me that the plane was descending, and once more as a blonde flight attendant asked me meekly whether I had any rubbish. I mumbled a quick, "No," and went back to my book; an old, worn diary from sometime around the late 19th century - my mother had given it to me as a thirteenth birthday present, and for the purposes of my sorry story, I advise you take note of it.

"Oh, say love, that looks a bit old, doesn't it?" said aforementioned flight attendant, apparently having plucked up the courage to make small talk, something that – while not desired - I could give her credit for. I turned back to face her and forced a small smile, "It was the diary of one of my great-grand-something's servants, I think" I said conversationally, albeit bit stand-offish.

A look of sheer awe crossed her face "Oh say love, that's old, 18th century love?"

"19th" I corrected, a little colder than before. I am indeed one of those uppity grammar-and-useless-details-Nazis that hover about irritating people over the slightest of unimportant details, I concede, but one must keep in mind that I don't pretend to present myself as the friendliest of people, though perhaps I ought.

"Oh, say love." She said again, and then after a short pause repeated the statement. I repressed the urge to respond with, "Oh say love _what_?" and instead forced another strained smile as she walked away.

_"Ladies and gentlemen we are about to land at Heathrow airport where the time is 3pm and the weather outside seems to be a little drizzly and 15 degrees centigrade. Whether you are beginning your holiday, or returning home, we hope that you have had an enjoyable flight with Britannia airways, see you gain soon,"_ said a calm male voice over the loudspeaker, as the plane began to circle the airport.

I sighed a tiny sigh of relief at the prospect of getting off the plane, and then sighed an even louder sigh of joy as my ears popped.

* * *

Another thing I detest about travelling is the size of the airports, Heathrow Airport especially; customs, immigration, security check, another security check, "excuse me miss, may you please step over here while we conduct a random search". I suppose it comes from having to face the joys of Heathrow Airport around once a month – usually. You see, over the past five years I've only actually seen Heathrow twice, but that hardly changes anything. In fact, I swear it's more crowded today just to spite me. I have a deep dislike for large crowds, you see - and trying to find your loved ones amongst large crowds – that's a pain too.

You've probably noticed I'm not the most sociable of people, I can only apologise and attempt to excuse myself with flimsy things like 'first impressions' and all that jazz. The point remains, however, that I don't much enjoy crowds, and I was at that moment in Heathrow Airport without a phone.

I was not in a particularly stellar mood even for those standards, however. Which was a shame, because I had been in fairly good spirits when I departed from the accursed plane. My ears had popped, and I was going to have a long awaited reunion with my family, but this had been rained upon to an extent by the fact that it's rather hard to smuggle certain _items of value to her majesty_ on and off planes, especially when one has a glass eye and a scar across said feature.

When I started out in this business I could never understand the conclusions people jumped to; that just because one looks a bit war torn they're more likely to be a danger. I'm accustomed to it now, though, and it's a regular enough experience for me to know how to behave. Regardless, it's an uncomfortable experience having random pat downs when you've not consciously done anything - far worse when you have, whatever the reason may be.

I fiddled with a large sapphire ring that so rarely left my left pointer finger, somewhat nervously, craning my neck above the crowd on the lookout for any sign of my family 'and co' (as they are affectionately known, though essentially they are my family): An eccentric middle aged, dark haired woman, an even more eccentric twenty-something ginger, a reserved dark haired twenty-something boy, or a little anemic looking gunmetal-grey (this is a term mother coined whilst flicking through one of those paint sample squares) haired boy.

I gave up craning my neck to spot my family and decided to try looking elsewhere, which proved to the best choice as after around fifteen minutes of wandering I spotted a large sign being held above the crowds that said in bold red lettering (surrounded by various scribbles of what appeared to be me).

'**SKYE (WINK-WINK-NUDGE-NUDGE) PHANTOMHIVE'**

I smiled slightly as one particular ginger, twenty-something spotted me and proceeded to squeal and dance on the spot until I was safely out of the monstrous crowds, and then joyfully attempt to kill me via a bone-crushing hug.

The gingers's name was Freja, and to this day she is my best friend, we've known each other since we were twelve and thirteen respectively, and despite various differences in personality, temperament, and even one small tiff over a boy, we've stuck together through everything. I suspect part of our 'bond' (this is her term for it) is that we have very subtle similarities: to this day a running joke in our social circle, as we both have one bright blue eye and one that is missing, a funny coincidence really (although coincidences are not few and far between in my life – but we'll get to that later). Freja claims her left eye was never there to begin with, but I had the misfortune of losing my eye in an accident (which we will not discuss, because I do in fact, have some dignity) as a child.

"Hullo Freja," I rasped through her surprisingly strong hug, I'd forgotten she was so strong for such a slim girl.

"Five 'ole years!" she exclaimed, nearly incomprehensible with her thick northern accent, "five un'oly years studyin' away in France an' 'ardly ever comin' back to see us!"

"I know, I know" I wheezed, and smiled weakly at the dark haired boy behind me.

The boy's name was Justin, he was a quiet, well read boy, and was engaged to Freja. He was in fact the boy the Freja and I had fought over in our teenage years, but I try not to think about it as it's a silly sort of thing to brood over when it was so many years ago.

"Nice to see you Skye," he mumbled quietly. It seemed to me he thought that I would still be a bit sensitive around him. Probably, I would be, if I didn't watch myself.

"Yes," I attempted to pull myself from Freja's hold, "you too."

Freja on the other hand, clearly didn't want me to go anywhere, as she immediately tightened her grip on me and cried, "Oh no you don't Miss Skye! I 'aven't seen you in _ages_ and I miiiissssed yooouuu!"

If there's one thing I have learnt about Freja, it's that she's as stubborn as a mule, so I relented, and let her hug me all the way to her car.

* * *

Right, so I feel pretty nervous about this, hope you enjoyed it. Reviews and helpful criticism are welcomed.

I shall update soonish, ciao for now.


	2. In which there are drinks on the house

**Hm, well this being chapter number two.** I sort of had a panic attack with chapter one, realised I had to edit it, and went "_Oh! I know, I'll put up chapter two, as an escape plan."_

_Music theme: Smells Like Teen Spirit, Nirvana, and in the latter half (I'm sure you can guess where) Forward to Time Past by John Williams, from the Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban OST_

Disclaimer: Yana Toboso owns Kuroshitsuji. I'm not a mysterious fifth Beatle, nor am I Kurt Cobain or John Williams. However, aside from all of that, I do own Skye and and (mostly) her direct friends and family

* * *

"Lis…listen up all. This'ere's my bes….bestest friend in, in the wholewideworl' and she don't even know 'ow much. An' an' she come back, from France…France. And Im'ma gettin' married, innit!

Tom…tom tha' piper's son!

Stole a **b-blood'ee** pig an' away 'e run

An' all the kid's from the circus stay,

Over tha' 'ills an' far away!"

Hark, the melodious voice of my drunken best friend.

Freja, for as long as I have known her, cannot stomach her alcohol, and yet drinks it like water. Though, in truth, this particular situation was no better for me, I was not _drunk_ per-say, but tipsy enough to be dancing on a table laughing like a siren for the rest of the pub to hear. I'll spend the rest of my days blaming Freja's influence for my own drinking – but in truth it's more the other way around.

Justin, to his credit, had just gone to fetch a taxi.

At that particular moment, I was in no state to comment on Freja's outburst, and instead began to laugh loudly, pulling Freja onto the counter top.

We began a violent fit of hysterical giggling, and a (very bad) rendition of _Yellow Submarine_.

It was one of those blessed times when one is too in the moment to think about anything but themselves, stumbling, laughing, dancing in a blur of wild rebellion in the face of everything (and probably in reality, nothing at all). Falling off tables, getting back on, ordering more drinks, attempting to harmonise the Beatles, while your common sense steps out of your body and watches politely from the sidelines.

Freja dragged a couple of innocent bystanders up onto the counter top and began to explain the joys of marriage to them in a voice barely recognizable as English. In the meantime I ambushed a handsome young thing who seemingly a penchant for black leather. He obviously wasn't used to tipsy girls on tables who enjoyed singing the Beatles very loudly, but clearly was trying his hardest to enjoy himself.

"What's your name?" I shouted laughingly over the chorus of people who had joined Freja's rendition of _I Am The Walrus._

His mouth seemed to move, however, I couldn't hear a sound so I opted for the polite answer of, "Oh, excellent! Sorry about my friend over there by the way. My name's Skye. Wha- what's yours? Oh, no I've asked that already, sorry, I'm Skye, did I say that?" He smiled slightly and said something else. "Really?" I shouted, not actually knowing what he had asked, "That's fascinating!"

His smile faltered slightly.

"Hey guys! Stop milling 'bout up there and dance!" shrieked Freja, pulling me further down the countertop, away from my intended target, who jumped neatly off the table and out of my sight. "F…Freja wait! You scared off a looker!" was my intelligent reply, as she proceeded to place another drink in my hands and began to grind out an imaginary pole dance to her creative version of Nirvana's _Smells like teen spirit._

Nothing was making any sense to me, and nothing needed to. That is, until I was dragged into the present by a particularly nasty fall off the table.

I could hear a collective shriek of surprise as I collided with the floor, which had so nicely come to greet me. People around me were clambering aimlessly, some for a better look, some to try and help, some just for the hell of it.

"Oh god Skye! Are you alrigh'?" Someone cried, Freja, I assumed. I wobbled, stood woozily, and shook myself to try and fight the daze that was threatening to pounce.

"Y-yeah. I'm fine," I said, a little shaken, losing control of co-ordination wasn't the best part of drinking. As I steadied myself, I felt something press onto my left hand, and glanced down to see that the sapphire on my ring seemed to have come lose and was trying to make its escape from my antique, _priceless_, family heirloom.

I swore very eloquently.

Just as I was hysterically trying to force the jewel back into place with the help of some four strangers, Freja, and a chorus of repeated suggestions from the rabble around us someone called out, "Hey guys, the taxi's arrived, let's go," in the tone of one who wanted to leave urgently

Freja and I looked up as Justin returned, looking very nervous. He grabbed Freja by the wrist and I by the upper arm before either of us could put a word in edgeways and dragged us out to the taxi. The little jewel pressed into my clenched fist solemnly heralding the beginning of what would be a very large problem.

* * *

It was raining heavily as the taxi pulled up to my new apartment house in Westbourne-Green, which was thankfully near enough to my family home for visits to my mother and brother, both of whom I had yet to see since my return to England.

I waved to Freja and Justin with one hand, and tightly clutched my broken ring in the other as the taxi pulled away from the sidewalk and drove off into the night.

Quietly, so as to not wake up my new neighbours, I ascended the staircase to the fourth floor, located my apartment, and entered. My things were already unpacked, and a jar of peanut butter was sitting neatly on the counter, remaining there from afternoon tea.

I absently placed some bread into the toaster, and clicked the answering machine, just in case Mother had rung earlier. To my luck, my brother's quiet voice replied to the loud beep of the phone.

_'Hey Skye, this is Roddy. Mum wanted me to say hi, and…uh, welcome back and everything. And, you know, we, um, missed you. Come over soon or something. Yeah, bye.'_

_"And tell her not to drink"_

_'…Right, mum says not to get drunk'_

_"Tell her I love her."_

_'I **already** have mum.'_

_"Well, tell her again"_

_'…Fine. Mum says she loves you again. Yeah… see ya'"_

Ah, poor Roddy, a true Phantomhive.

I sat down on one of the stools, feeling the effects of the alcohol starting to settle now that there was silence and a distinct lack of atmosphere to feed off. It was a good thing I hadn't drunken quite so much, otherwise I would never have noticed the wayward sapphire on my ring.

Now the question was, should I try and fix it myself, or go to bed and call a professional jeweler in the morning?

Clearly, I did have enough alcohol in my system to pick the more stupid answer to the question, as I slumped over and began to fiddle with the bright jewel, hoping for it to somehow click neatly back into its setting. Rather than co-operate with me however, it simply twisted outward, and made my ring _glow a ridiculous purple colour_. I started loudly as the little heirloom lit up, dropping it clumsily onto the kitchen bench. It began to glow even more brightly, radiating an ethereal light, which seemed to get brighter, and brighter, _and brighter still_, until I could see nothing but radiant light.

And then an unseen force pushed me off my chair very violently. I fell forward with a terribly scream, and the floor seemed to side step me and I found myself falling impossibly far. The wind whistled past with a grating sort of 'whoosh' and the sound of my drawn-out scream remained with me as background noise. I fell for an insurmountable time, surrounded by nothing but a terrible white light, as though there was simply no end to this terrifying fall, and I would simply die before any sort of impact.

It was, of course, then that I was proven wrong and thrown onto a cobble stone road in a putrid alleyway instead.

"_Jesus, Mary and Joseph!_ Hey! Hey! Are you okay miss?" Someone started in utter horror at my collision with the terribly made ground.

I couldn't find it in me to answer, I was too stunned and so much like a terrified rabbit that all I could do was lie on the ground aching, twitching and panting all at once, but surprisingly, relatively unharmed – which was only one of the great miracles of the day.

"Miss!" whimpered the voice quietly, "Miss, please answer. I… oh God, Maria come here! A woman's fallen from the sky!"

I forced my aching limbs to move. Groaning painfully, I stood to find a young man, in suspiciously old-fashioned clothing eyeing me worriedly, clearly unsure what to make of the situation.

I moaned, "it's alright, I'm fine, really. I just..." I looked around briefly, trying to collect my bearings and thoughts all at once, "fell off that roof. Sorry to bother you." The young man nodded slowly and seemingly took my final sentence to mean 'goodbye' as he turned around, and jogged in a panicky manner down the alleyway, and around a filth-infested corner.

As soon as he was out of sight, panic (and bile, probably) started to rise in my throat, I sprinted in the direction that the most noise seemed to come from, and burst through the alley onto a busy, but unsettlingly _old-fashioned_ street. Carriages pulled by horses went to and fro. Men, Women and Children wearing clothes that varied from rags to elaborate costumes of silk, cotton, taffeta, corsets and lace sauntered up and down the street talking merrily, and god did it _smell._

I stared openly, feeling my jaw slacken. I felt inexcusably lost, and overwhelmed with the terrible urge to scream.

I must have looked awfully strange, a young woman with a large scar, strange clothing and an inexcusably boyish hairstyle staring openly at a street full of people as though I've never seen another soul in my entire life.

Two men were standing nearby, and both of them seemed to notice me instantly, pointing in my direction and seeming to come to some sort of decision. They both walked towards me with an air of arrogant confidence. I felt very unsure of what to do, and so I went into my default setting of tense and ready to react quickly if need be.

"Miss Phantomhive?" The taller of the two asked politely, while the shorter one stood to the left of me. I nodded cautiously, how did they know who I was?

The two men exchanged glances, then the taller asked again, "Are you lost Milady? Do you have an escort with you?" Unsure of how to answer this, I decided to play the innocent little girl persona that he seemed to think I was, and shook my head slightly, "I'm not entirely sure sir. Can you assist me in any way?"

They both grinned toothily, the shorter one said, "well, Milady Phantomhive, This is the quickest way to London bridge, I'm sure you can find your way home from there," and gestured to the alley I had just come from.

_'Ah'_ I mused, albeit a little nervously, '_Perverts of some sort.' _But, dazed and thrown, I foolishly decided to follow them, reasoning that I could easily defend my self against a pair of low-life criminals. They both stepped aside and allowed me to enter the alley, I tensed slightly as we walked further into the filthy street, trying to fall behind them to get an advantage, waiting for either of them to speak again, or make an advance in some way.

Again, (and not for the last time) luck, or fate, or someone who really doesn't like me, decided to prove me wrong, as quite suddenly I found my mouth stuffed with a disgusting rag drenched in chloroform, and without time to scream, kick, or react in any way, I passed out

* * *

Ho hum, well, at least I got the story moving along. Reviews and helpful criticism are welcome.

I apologise for any grammar mistakes, it's late here, and I hope I've got them all.


	3. In which there are ropes and hangovers

**Chapter 3: In which there are ropes and hangovers**

**And along came chapter three. **

_Music Theme for chapter: Alice's Theme, Danny Elfman_

I don't own Kuroshitsuji. Yana Toboso does (lucky thing). Nor do I own anything by Danny Elfman. All I can claim in this chapter is Skye. Poor girl.

I apologise for the miniature size of this chapter.

* * *

I awoke feeling very sore, and very sorry for myself, - the doing of a hangover, probably – just to add to the two nasty bumps on my head and the smell of chemicals (and –blood?) in my nose and behind my eyes.

And then panic set in. It had been so long since proper panic had been an emotion in my arsenal, and as such, I spent a good block of time trying in vain to rein it in. Where was I? My chest heaved, but my lungs seemed unwilling to work. Why couldn't I see? A jolt of pained anxiety struck as a strained to determine the state of my eyesight, total blindness was not something I could afford. Blindfold. Good.

It seemed as though whoever had felt the need to try and kill me with an anesthetic used to clean maggot-infested wounds, had gone to the (unexpectedly clichéd) trouble of tying me up also.

_'Rather well too,'_ I begrudgingly accepted, when I realized that my hands were well on the way to losing circulation. I forced my breathing to even out, and tried to relax as much as possible, which helped to loosen the ropes a bit, but to no avail. It seemed that whoever had kidnapped me was no amateur in this particular area.

Quite suddenly the silence that surrounded me was broken. It sounded as though someone with little grace and heavy boots was entering the room I was being held in.

"Who are you?" I snapped coldly, hardly in the mood for the typical introductory sarcastic, _'feeling-comfortable-little-girl-I-thought-nots' _that so often go hand-in-hand with these sorts of thing. I hate those, having heard them so many times I ought to be ashamed. It's a real shame overused one-liners have made their way into real society.

The kidnapper laughed gruffly, "A spirited brat I see, hmmm? Well it's not your place to be asking questions, feeling comfortable little girl?" he paused for dramatic effect, "I thought not".

Oh, here we go again.

Internally I unleashed a barrage of witty (in my opinion) comebacks, but externally forced my self not to snap at him. Over time I've found that Kidnappers – being for the better part sadists- are often far too easily provoked, and usually become violent; this being no help unless they are the type (so often unfortunately fictional) that also reveal a great amount of information when angry.

Apparently it seemed that whoever this man was, he needed no provoking, as he kicked me square in the jaw. My skull collided harshly against the wall behind me, forcing me to make a conscious effort not to shout out in pain and surprise as those familiar little fireworks behind my eyelids went off with a celebratory bang, "You say anything while Mr Vanel's dealing with business with your brat brother, and you'll receive more where that came from," he barked roughly. Then, to make sure I had understood his point, he kicked me again.

I choked slightly, partly as his boot came in contact with my throat, and also because I couldn't begin to consider the idea of any sort of criminal laying their bloody hands on Roddy. What business? Was this a plot against me? Against Her Majesty? A random act of violence? Had Roddy done something? How on heaven and earth did I get here?

I pressed these thoughts back valiantly, "Mmm," I agreed, feeling I could risk one or two curt words, "Obviously."

To my surprise, the man didn't kick me this time, but instead slung me over his shoulder and carried me somewhere. I remained quiet this time, kidnappers usually only move you if they're escaping, or bargaining, or going to kill you, as the place you wake up is normally the place you stay unless you've woken up prematurely. And naturally, one needs their strength when in any of those situations.

I mulled over what was unfurling around me. This 'Vanel' guy had some sort of business with Roddy, though I couldn't for the life of me figure out what. Roddy was definitely never meant to be involved in Watchdog Business, he's too frail, too young. I began to search my memory for some piece of information that could possibly explain what was happening.

Nothing.

I then began to strain my mind in hopes of some way of escape - my phone? No that was in my bag, which I supposed the kidnappers had raided and disposed of.

Did anyone of importance to me know where I was? No. Obviously not. Did I even know where I was? No. Did I have any clue who these men were? Not to my knowledge. A random kidnapping, not based upon my occupation? Doubtful.

An organised underground gang with some form vendetta against my family seemed more likely, but we hadn't actively done anything in the United Kingdom since I had moved to France some years ago, so any grudge would have to be an old one indeed. Had Roddy done anything suspicious recently that could possibly form a grudge against him? Perhaps, I hadn't seen him in some time, but it seemed unlikely given his temperament and health.

Did any of this give me any information that could possibly help to formulate a plan? No. Nothing. What to do, what to do?

It was about then when I was dumped unceremoniously on a carpeted floor, soft and familiar against my bruised cheek. I mulled over the curious sensation as a pair of large hands violently yanked the blindfold I had been wearing off.

My eyes watered from the ridiculous onslaught of light for a brief minute, and when my good eye had adjusted I almost wished it hadn't.

Everything about the scene in front of me was wrong. So, _so_ wrong. My train of thought came to an almighty crash as I tried to process what was seeing. This was some sort of joke, some sort of psychological game, or an elaborate prank on Freja's behalf or- or- something.

True, I had already established that something was wrong. No one really wore clothes that appeared to be right out of a period drama, and nobody decorated their rooms in such an old fashioned way.

But it was the little boy all beaten up, bruised and bleeding on the carpet, who looked so much like my brother but wasn't, that was the source of my distress. I knew immediately who this boy was because I'd seen many pictures of him, heard so much about him, read and re-read to the point I practically lived out a heavily fictionalized account his life over and over again since I had been given that old journal.

It was my great-_great_ grandfather, Ciel Phantomhive

I felt a surge of foreign emotions all at once, terror, confusion, concern, disbelief and for the briefest of moments felt sure that I'd let my calm façade slip, and that a look of shock had crossed my features for a fleeting moment. Because this wasn't, couldn't possibly be real.

Regardless of my initial reaction, I forced myself to suppress my confusion, turned to the closest kidnapper and stated blankly, "Care to tell me who you are?"

The 'Ciel' boy shot me a sharp look, which very clearly demanded to know who I was and for me to shut the hell up. I returned the expression with a look that hopefully said, '_Keep out of this, I know what I'm doing,'_ which he returned with a sour glare. Apparently the boy, really Ciel Phantomhive or not, was just as skilled in the art of bitter expressionism as the journal had described, if not more.

The kidnapper whom I had addressed earlier, and I assumed was Vanel – _Italian accent, scar across the face, hair pulled up into greasy ponytail –mafia,_ I noted quickly - quite suddenly grabbed a fistful of my jacket and jerked my over so that my feet dangled aimlessly with my weight behind them, in what he probably hoped was a threatening manner. I begged to differ though; it seemed to me that he was obviously terrified of something, and quite desperate.

"Call it off, or I'll shoot her."

Typical, desperate in-above-your-head kidnapper. I decided. This meant two things; firstly, careful treading, as scared people are dangerous people. Secondly, confidence and persuasion, as scared people are easily swayed.

I smirked slightly and inquired, "You expect him to comply?"

I'm sure that 'Ciel' was smirking at my back, because Vanel suddenly became enraged and placed an old fashioned pistol to my head, "I'll shoot!" he screamed, turning me to face the boy, "I'll shoot your sister!"

It would seem that this boy and I were very like-minded, as we both stared pointedly Vanel, and smirked at him, stating in tandem.

"She's not _my_ sister"  
"I'm _not_ his sister."

A resounding crash echoed from somewhere in the building and the man's animalistic scowl crumpled into a look of terror. He quite suddenly turned to the men behind him, dumping me none too gently on floor next to one of the plush chairs, screaming anxiously, _"Well! What are you waiting for! Get behind the portraits you idiots!"_

His lackeys all shared his terrified expression, as they moved aside two large portraits on either side of the door and entered into the holes behind the portraits, placing the pictures back into place for their ambush.

I didn't know what exactly was coming, although I was certain that it was rescue in some form or another.

In retrospect, I suppose if I had known what our supposed rescue was to its full extent, then perhaps, just maybe – though I will never be sure - the events that occur from this curious moment might have panned out differently.

And I sure as hell would've gone to bed earlier last night.

* * *

Behold, a terribly played ending to a very short chapter. Thank you to the people who have responded to this bizarre story, I hope it continues to live up to your expectations. *crosses fingers*


	4. In which we meet the unexpected

_Chapter four is, unfortunately, just as short as the last._

_Music for this chapter: Tender Sugar, Akira Yamaoka._

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji, nor Akira Yamaoka, nor any of his wonderful music.

All I can claim in this chapter is a very shell-shocked Skye.

* * *

There was an extremely tense moment of silence as Vanel held is gun tightly, waiting for some sort of ghastly horror to enter the room.

Instead, we were greeted by a soft, masculine, and all-too-polite-for-the-situation, "Pardon the intrusion," from somewhere just beyond the double-doors. I glanced at Ciel questioningly, but found his attention was fixed entirely on the doors.

The atmosphere tensed as the doors creaked open slowly. I tried to envision what sort of rescue party could introduce itself with such good manners, but none – or at least none that existed within the realms of possible – came immediately to mind. Some small part of me pressed that it did know who stood behind the doors, but I couldn't encourage it to tell me who. Then, they were open, and the only word to describe my reaction upon the sight of Ciel's rescue was sheer disbelief.

It was a butler.

Or, to be more specific, a tall, young, dark, and handsome butler with an impossibly perfect visage and curiously coloured eyes, who I had seen in photographs many times, admired in my younger years (if you could only see the pictures I've seen, I think you'd be inclined to agree that any prepubescent girl would twitter slightly at this lovely daguerreotype), but certainly never expect this sort of behaviour from.

To fully encourage my disbelief, he stepped lightly into the room – at gun point, mind you – smiled politely with a bow, and stated in an unbelievably casual manner, " I've come to retrieve my master".

As I'm sure you can understand, I couldn't believe it. To my reasoning, there was no way in heaven or hell that any of this could be happening. I must have had too many sleeping pills on the plane, too much alcohol with Freja, too much _something_, because seeing my own ancestor was bad enough, but knowing that somehow this man who could be no older than thirty had taken down an entire mafia was too much to register.

I caught the eye of Ciel, and tried to express a look of _'what the hell is going on?'_ to him, which he in turn smirked at with a weighty sort of, _'I know something that you don't'_ look.

I scowled at him, because there was nothing much else I could do. A variety of curses wafted kindly through my head, this had been a less-than-pleasant day before I had landed in wonderland, and it didn't seem fair to me that I had to end it playing audience to a hellish satire with butlers and ghosts and broken bones.

But then, on a more reasonable note, perhaps this 'butler' was in actual fact a bodyguard or professional of some form or another?

Vanel had been saying something to the butler over this train of thought, and I caught the last of the conversation as a falsely confident gruff laugh and a, "are you an ex-swat mercenary? You can't really be a butler," from Vanel – he seemed to be in compliance with me. However the man replied with a mocking "no, I am simply one hell of a butler. And only that."

This reply, I think, was meant to frighten Vanel into compliance, but the sheer humility of the tone irked me slightly because he seemed so smug about it, and as such, I scoffed a little bit louder than I ought have. The brief glance I received from the just-a-butler-totally-not-a-body-guard in response was not a comforting one.

Vanel took a step back, and Ciel closed his eyes tightly as though to block out any on coming pain, as the armed lunatic stated in falsetto calmness, "I see. Well in any case, I have no intention of fighting you mister butler. I yield. But you know" – at this he grabbed Ciel by the hair – "I'll be taking the goods you have, you wouldn't want your cute master to have breathing holes in his head would you?"

The Butler simply stared as the kidnapper placed his gun to Ciel's head. I couldn't help but bite my lip slightly, the whole situation seemed a bit bleak, what could this butler do to save him? It looked fairly hopeless to me.

Vanel grinned, "If you're really a butler than you should know what to do."

_'A drug trade'_I mused in sudden realisation,_'fairly common crime, the guy must be a criminal merchant.'_ Bitterly, I pondered over how exactly Ciel had acquired enough opium – or at least I assumed it was opium, the apparent era hinted enough at it – to end up being the victim of a hostage situation.

The thing that brought me into the present (hah) this time, was the sound of a young, tragically handsome butler being blown to smithereens.

His eyes had widened as his body was riddled with bullets from the men behind the portraits, Ciel opened his mouth in shock, and gasped out part of his would-be rescuer's name, as the body crumpled brokenly to the floor. I looked away grimly, pressingly my head into the arm of the chair, _'and so it goes, and so it goes'_.

Vanel laughed roughly "Haha! Sorry Romeo, but _I'm_ the winner of this game!" he grinned triumphantly and yanked the suddenly calm looking Ciel by the hair, placing his gun to the boy's throat, ranting arrogantly about how cunning he was to have outdone the Queen's Watchdog.

At this, I spluttered in horror and indignation, _'The Queen's Watchdog! That's me!'_ I started in silent, hopeless annoyance. This whole situation seemed to be getting more and more horrible with every minute that passed.

I opened my mouth to correct the fool just as Vanel pulled the boy's eye patch off. But Ciel cut across me, saying to nobody in particular in a very apathetic tone, "How long are you going to play around for? I wouldn't have thought that was a nice place to sleep. Just how long are you going to play dead like a raccoon?"

There was a heavy pause before, _**"Th-that's not possible!"**_ Vanel cried in disbelief. I was certain his voice was being done in with every shout he uttered.

I was in such a state I could feel the hairs in my forearms bristle, and a very unpleasant shiver ascend my spine. My mind raced, '_No, this is impossible! He can't hav-'_

"My, my…" murmured the soft voice, again. This time very quietly, with a very dangerous edge to it. "The efficiency of guns has been going up lately. It's a big difference to one hundred years ago."

The look of sheer terror on every single person in the room, bar Ciel was almost but not quite comical, I imagine I had the same look. Vanel shrieked,_**"What are you doing! Kill him!"**_to his lackeys, who immediately began to shoot the undead corpse to no avail. Slowly, the corpse of the butler stood up, chest first, in a manner that left his head down until last, which then coughed up around a dozen bullets, smirked and whispered very maliciously "I'm returning these."

At this point, I was so stunned and in such disbelief, that when the corpse simply and unmercifully flicked his wrist in a backwards motion that resulted in all of the mafia lackeys finding a bullet in their head, I couldn't find it in my heart to add anymore terror to what I already had.

Surely this was a nightmare.


	5. In which there is black magic and toast

**Up goes number five, **which, unfortunately does nothing for the plot, but had to happen. Forgive my sorry soul.

Thank you to all my reviewers, you're all very kind and very much appreciated.

_Music theme for chapter: Critical Phase, by Taku Iwasaki (an actual song from the anime? God forbid)_

I don't own Kuroshitsuji, Yana Toboso does, naturally nor do I own the music from it, nor Christopher Marlowe (The playwright for the most common version of Doctor Faustus).

All I can claim is an increasingly worried woman by the name of Skye. Poor goose.

* * *

The what-ought-to-be-a-corpse butler stretched casually, sighed lightly, ignored the look of sheer terror on Vanel's (and also my own) face, and lifted up one of his swallow tails to examined it with a curious grace, lamenting nonchalantly, "Ah, what a mess. My clothes have become ruined."

"That's only 'cause you were playing around you idiot.' Snapped Ciel irritably. I moaned quietly, wondering how on earth I could have found myself in such a place as this, with no seemingly sane people for miles around, hoping against hope that someone would wake me up.

However, that scenario was very unlikely, and if I did somehow survive this incident, as unlikely as it seemed, another question arose, that being, _'how am I to get home?' _From all I could tell, (and really, I couldn't) I was somehow in Victorian Era England – this was surely impossible, so I had no idea where I was. I was scared out of my mind, and probably had no chance of getting away from wherever here was.

And it occurred to me, as the stupidest things so often do when you're stressed, I had left the toast in the toaster.

Great. Just great.

Now, the butler and Ciel seemed to be having a conversation that I really should have been listening to, but it seemed that my head was having so much trouble trying to register this whole incident that my attention span was a lost cause, so I could only make do with the end of their conversation;

" - It looks nice and gruesome, not unlike a bug. It suits someone so small and weak as yourself. I thought it would be nice to watch you looking that way for a little while" the butler smirked quite uncaringly down a the small boy, who in turn rolled his eyes and stated in a very annoyed tone, "_Whose_ orders do you take?"

I shook my head slowly at the absurdity of the conversation. Not only was the butler immortal (apparently), but he had a sadistic and clinical sense of humour too, and to top that, the boy (Ciel? I wasn't quite ready to accept that) didn't seem to mind at all beyond an annoyed pretence.

It seemed that around this time, Vanel finally came to his senses, because as the butler took yet another step towards Ciel, the man screamed at the top of his lungs, "_**Stop!**_" It was clear that he was so terrified that his natural animalistic instincts had taken over, he shoved his gun against Ciel's temple and continued to scream, _"I-I-I Said stop damnit! If you come any closer I'll blow is head off!"_

Now instead of panicking or stepping back, the butler smiled uncaringly, and tapped his chin with mocking thoughtfulness. "Hmm" he mused with no concern in his voice whatsoever, "What ever shall I do?"

"Hurry up already," grumbled Ciel, "my arm hurts."

It seemed to me that for both Ciel and his monster butler, this was all a game. And I, being both talented and lucky, had found myself right in the middle of it.

"But young master, if I come closer you'll be killed." the butler stated with a very blatant degree of patronizing humour over the top of Vanel's relentless screams of, _'Shut up! Shut up!'_ He was clearly amused by the whole situation, but sobered up a tiny bit when Ciel's face formed a scowl and spat, "You bastard, do you intend to go against 'the contract'?"

Not to be ruffled, the butler smiled politely at this, and placed a hand over his heart. He bowed slightly as he calmly stated that, no, he would never go against 'the contract', he was Ciel's faithful servant ever since 'that day' - "The Sacrifice that was offered, and the happiness you left behind you," he concluded to emphasise a point that had just gone right over my head.

Vanel shrieked horribly, _"what the hell are you going on about you freak?!"_ and I worked up enough courage to add, "My thoughts exactly," timidly into the chaos, and was thankfully ignored by everyone.

"Now young master, shall we teach him the proper way to beg?" Inquired the butler, and Ciel nodded forcefully, shouting; _"It's an order! Save me!"_

Vanel's eyes were popping out of his sockets, and his jaw was almost reaching its limit as he once more screamed _"SHUUUT UPPPPP!" _Pulling the trigger on his gun. I shut my eyes tightly, Vanel was too far gone for the butler to do anything, and I didn't want to witness the murder of a child if I could help it.

There was a terrible bang, and then, silence.

I opened my eyes hesitantly, expecting to see nothing but blood and guts. Instead, there was Ciel, flinching out of reflex from the loud bang, very clearly not dead.

"Wh-why-?" gasped our kidnapper. "He –"

"He's not dead." I finished, stunned.

There was a sudden tense moment of silence, and it became apparent to me that the butler was standing directly behind Vanel and Ciel, he caught my eye and smirked slightly, then said loudly, "Is this what you're looking for? I'm returning it."

Vanel gasped, but before he could react, the butler had dropped this missing bullet into his shirt pocket.

"Please, release the young master." The butler requested politely, and Vanel opened his mouth to shout, but the butler cut him off again, "first, please remove you filthy hands from him."

There was a sickening series of cracks as Vanel's right arm jerked, and twisted around in four full circles. It was broken completely beyond repair.

He could do nothing but scream as the butler picked Ciel up gently, muttering almost apologetically, "I'm afraid today's game was quite uninteresting," and placed the boy neatly on the chair I lay next to, completely ignoring the man's screams of money, women, anything if he would work for Vanel, and instead simply _ripped apart_ the belts and shackles that bound Ciel.

When he was done with the last, he murmured quietly, "it's a shame Sir Vanel, but I have no interest in currency made by human hands. For I am…" Here he turned, grinning openly with a look of malevolency that could only end in death, and pulled off his left-hand glove to reveal a complicated, circular tattoo, "One hell of a butler."

At his (overly, I felt) dramatic words, something in my mind clicked, of a time when I was a child. Mother had taken Freja and myself to an Elizabethan play called _'The Tragic Tale of Doctor Faustus' _based upon an old German legend of a scientist that had _sold his soul to the devil._

Suddenly, I didn't need to hear the butler's explanation of what he was, or see what he did to Vanel, as he murdered the man with impossible speed. I knew already. He was a demon, and that _idiot_ Ciel had given away his soul to this monster for his own gain.

Well shucks, don't I have a lovely family?

* * *

Well, let's be honest, it could be worse Skye, at least you didn't find a demon of The Exorcist variety.

I apologise for any grammar mistakes I didn't pick up on!

Have a nice day.


	6. In which personal space is disregarded

**I'm glad to say Chapter six is longer than I expected**.

But still, pretty short. Oh well, I'll work on it.

A couple of people have asked about Skye's age, so I thought I'd clear that up, she's twenty six – there's a curious lack of older ocs in fanfiction, which I find strange in some cases, as so often characters of interest (say, love interest) in stories are closer to thirty than the oc they're written with.

_Theme for chapter: partway Numb, by Marina and the Diamonds and partway Monster Bossa by Murray Gold (from Doctor Who)  
_

I don't Kuroshitsuji, (no matter how much I'd like to) nor do I own Marina and the Diamonds or Murray Gold's music.

I do, however own Skye, who due to this might require therapy in the near future.

* * *

I found myself gaping unabashedly at the monster in human guise, who, in an almost disinterested manner flicked the corpse of the recently deceased Italian man against the far wall.

It seemed that all of my careful self-control had long since left me, because without my permission my mouth formed the (very untimely) word, "hell" and allowed it to become vocal in a very stupefied manner. This caused the supposed Ciel Phantomhive, to turn to me with carefully blank, possibly bored, on his face. He scrutinised me briefly, before indicating for the monster-butler-demon to untie me.

I squeaked pathetically and wriggled a bit as the butler moved towards me, before catching myself and adding, "I can, uh, handle ropes myself".

The Monster's mouth quirked slightly in what may have been a hidden smirk, and in a mockingly polite tone said, "it would be more efficient if I were to assist, miss." I gaped at him for a microsecond, pondering how such a monster could appear so polite, before composing myself and shrugging lightly.

I forced a sigh, "If you must…" Hoping that it came off as nonchalant, but it most likely fell short, because the monster's face took on a very amused expression, as he bent down to undo the damned ropes.

The sweet relief of blood flowing back into my sore hands is something I always find I appreciate no matter the situation – leaning on your elbows the wrong way, too-tight bracelets, being tied up, what have you. So I was more than content to gingerly rub my wrists and pretend that a monster and a boy that was supposedly my great-great-grand father were not both waiting on me to react in some acknowledging manner.

After some few minutes of waiting, the boy grew impatient and demanded, "Who are you?"

I glanced up, quickly assessing my muscle memory, and placing a look of contemptuous disinterest into my features, "that is hardly a polite introduction," I calmly reprimanded. Hoping it came across as the tone of a lady who could deal with her own problems, and didn't like it when people stuck their nose into her business.

The boy glowered at me, "I'm certain you know of my identity miss," he said rather irritably, "So it is more a question of _your_ identity."

He was right of course, I'd have to be deaf to have not known his name, but my typical Phantomhive secrecy, pride and stubbornness all do their job well. So instead of answering, I huffed lightly, and made a move to stand, but the boy indicated something to the monster and I quickly found myself sitting again.

"Miss, it would, be more to your benefit to answer my master," insisted the monster in a quietly threatening tone. I then found myself cornered entirely by the disconcertingly handsome and equally shady gentleman in question, who leant his full weight on the arms on the chair I'd found myself in and stared intently with the most unsettlingly serene smile I've ever seen.

I smiled weakly, "Well…" I paused, should I tell the truth? A part truth? Or flat out lie? "My name is Skye, my family name will more than likely be familiar, but is none of your business. The only reason I'm here is a case of mistaken identity, and as far as I know, I'm of no threat to you."

The boy raised a very dubious eyebrow, "Doubtless I'm sure." He spoke very eloquently, but also in a frustratingly mocking voice, "However, it's a pain when people try to lie themselves out of situations. Sebastian!"

The last part was an unsaid order, and the butler, Sebastian I figured, bowed elegantly and stated politely, " I apologise for my young master's rudeness – " at this, Ciel huffed and rolled his eyes. "- but you will be required to accompany us."

'_Impending doom' senses, are tingling, I repeat, 'impending doom' senses are tingling. Abort Mission. Run. Turn and Run, I repeat, abort mission._

I forced the panic in my features to go back from whence it came, and held my head up high. I had nowhere to go, I reasoned, albeit without full use of my common sense due to terror, and an aristocrat was –though not directly – offering me temporary shelter. I was terrified, but I supposed that for now, I would comply if it meant a place to stay and gather my bearings. I could handle questions, hell, I could handle (or should) handle violence – my track record of the day was less than satisfactory, but I wasn't so bewildered now – I'd been trained to. An interrogation on my terms (my terms being without magic rings and slight hangovers, hysterical Italians, and mistaken identities devolving into hostage situations) oughtn't be so bad.

Though… I eyed the butler, Sebastian, again. I felt that if tall, dark, and terrifying was going to be my interrogator, I ought worry quite a bit.

I smiled, and nodded stiffly, "If that is what you want,"

Ciel did not respond, and simply frowned instead.

Sebastian quite suddenly picked up the boy, who immediately started "Hey! What are you doing you moron?" which he in turn replied with a "Young master, you can't expect to walk home in such a state, we'll be late for dinner." Ciel huffed at this, and fell into a sulky silence as Sebastian opened the somewhat shattered doors.

"After you, Miss."

Quite suddenly, I felt rather nauseous, but forced the urge to gag down. I would not be reduced to a simpering damsel in distress. And if it were not for what the monster butler did to Vanel, I would have kicked him (where the sun don't shine if I was lucky) and bolted long ago.

Well, needless to say, I would have regretted that a _great_ deal.

The corridor was eerily silent, and so too was the next, seemingly not another soul was to be found in the entire building. It disturbed me just how empty the place was. Now, I'm no tourist when it comes to gang-war related kidnappings, and I know for a fact that when it's on such a grand scale, you don't go around hiring a couple of amateurs, you hire as many hit men as possible, each more skilled than the previous in everything.

Which meant that… This butler really did _take down an entire Mafia._

I stopped dead, weighing out in my mind my chances of survival running versus interrogation.

I couldn't decide which was worse.

"Hey, are you coming or do we have to make you?" grumbled Ciel impatiently as Sebastian stopped to wait, clearly very annoyed with me. They turned to look, and I found that their twin expressions of calculated emotionless-ness was not at all encouraging.

I smiled uneasily, "Uh, yes. Please excuse me," I jogged a couple of steps to catch up, trailing just behind the pair, still considering throwing caution to the wind and running in the opposite direction screaming bloody murder. _Anything would be better than death by demonic torture,_ I reasoned, _because, if nothing else, I might be able to save my soul._

We rounded the corner, arriving at a staircase that descended into a large hall.

I took a double-take; a large hall, full of dead people.

I swallowed nervously. Now, I've seen plenty of corpses before; I don't like them, but I've cut up a cadaver in my time, and I've certainly fired a gun. I could handle death, it was just that the premise of these particulars threw me for a loop. It seemed that both my dignity and my composure desired a holiday, as I found myself tripping over and landing none too gracefully five steps down, staring in such shock that my good eye threatening to join it's counterpart in going awry.

"Oh…my," I murmured, the sight in front of me could only be described as a massacre; the bodies of men lying limp over railings, on the floor, the table, all with glassy eyes, broken limbs and an expression of frozen terror painted onto their faces. Worse still, in their demise, they had not been met by gunfire or other natural cause of death in violent situations, rather, they were all impaled with _cutlery_.

The monster (for that was what he was, I had no reservations now), held out a polite hand for me, but I was being overly jumpy and quickly noticed the twin smirks on both his and Ciel's faces. "I can move on my own," I mumbled, the words slurring into each other in my anxiety, forcing my aching limbs to comply, ghosting down the stairs and past the unseeing men.

It was like a scene from a horror movie, and I almost believed that one of the corpses would reach out and grab me. But none did, all were meeting their maker as the monster, the boy and I exited the room, and I left a silent prayer that they would receive some form of compensation for their deaths, if nothing else.

It was a golden afternoon when we stepped out of that horrid place, and I soon discovered that we were in the countryside, in the outskirts of London, and also that the monster butler intended to be at the Phantomhive mansion on the other side of London within the next fifteen minutes.

I was proud to say it was my turn to give them an _'are you some kind of idiot?'_ look, because it is (or should, in theory, be) simply impossible to travel so fast, even to London it would take a good hour of walking.

"I apologise, as I would not normally, treat a lady so disrespectfully, but I'm afraid that given the circumstances and time limits, you will have to ride on my back, Miss," put in the butler with a smile, very clearly not meaning his regrets. Ciel was trying very hard to suppress a mocking smirk as the monster bent down slightly, intending for me to 'climb aboard'.

Excuse me, what?

I stuttered awkwardly, not knowing how to react, "Uh… I'm, grateful and all… b-but I don't think… well… that's not really possible… So…I'm going to have to decline your offer. I'll just walk, thanks"

_Oh Skye, how tactful you are._

"Miss, I assure you that I, as the Phantomhive Butler, am fully capable of maintaining such a mode of transport, and I insist that this is the most efficient way to travel at the moment."

I felt very foolish, and couldn't help but grumble, "Please tell me this isn't all just an effort to make it to dinner in time," to which his eye's darkened in a very threatening manner, and in a quite tone he said, "Miss, I_insist_."

I backpedalled from the dangerous the conversation was heading down with a sheepish smile, and edged very carefully towards him, "Are you…sure?"

"Just hurry up," grumbled Ciel, and so with no other real choice at hand, I shimmied as close to the monster as I felt comfortable, and he hoisted me up.

There is only one word to describe our trip after that, which is _Zoom_.

* * *

I'd also feel happy to mention that on that particular day, I believe I became the first human to break the sound barrier screaming.

I've learnt many valuable life lessons over the years ranging from the best brand of carpet cleaner, to how to survive a shoot off. Occasionally I like to share my life lessons with friends, so I figure I'll grant anyone who ever meets me this one piece of advice; If you ever fantasize about riding on the shoulders of a tall, dark and handsome man, dream of clinging to him as the world sweeps past, forget about it. There is nothing comfortable or romantic about clinging for dear life to a demon, vampire, angel, superhero or any other sort of creature.

I think I might have passed out for the last few minutes of our delightful trip, as the last thing I remember after the terror and the surreal blur of the world whooshing past, is stopping so suddenly that I found myself flipping over the monster, and landing stomach first on the ground.

_"What was that for?"_ I Shrieked. I was not in a good mood, I had fallen through my kitchen floor, been kicked around, kidnapped, thrown about and hit for the better part of the day, and I still had a hangover. I really didn't care if I angered this monster or the boy at that time, I was furious and tired and I needed to take my anger out on something.

The monster, however, was completely unperturbed by my outburst and said very plainly, "I apologise, I believe I did warn you that we were stopping beforehand. So I assumed you would be more prepared."

I glared at him, who did he think I was? A child? "I'm sorry, I was too busy trying to convince my stomach not to empty itself down your back. Or would you rather I had let it, just so I could pay attention to you?" I hissed.

Okay, so maybe I was a bit childish, but as I said, I was in a foul mood.

Ciel however, clearly wasn't in the mood to listen to my bickering, and put in very impatiently, "Sebastian, hurry up. I'm hungry."

The monster butler nodded to the boy in his arms, "I apologise for my rudeness young master. What good is a butler that is carried away by squabbling?"

He then turned to me, smiling his very scary serene smile, "Miss, as we are nearing my Master's home I must ask that you remain docile if we come across the other servants, and do not mention anything of the young master's kidnapping. It would not be beneficial for the young master's reputation."

I nodded slowly, "Won't they ask about our… um…" I gestured down at the mud, leaves and tears on my general person, "state?"

His smile became slightly more benevolent upon my question and he quietly said, "You needn't worry about that, I have fully planned an explanation." At this, Ciel rolled his eyes and elbowed Sebastian slightly with a curt, "Hurry up."

Upon this, Sebastian turned sharply, and began to trek through the woods we were in, I followed hesitantly, and after a couple of minutes of stumbling awkwardly behind, the woods began to thin out and take shape, until we were walking through a large formal garden.

Soon enough, we rounded a corner past a number of hedges and a large mansion that looked remarkably familiar to me came into sight. It was without a doubt most definitely a particular mansion that I had spent many summer days relaxing in, and many winter days watching various tourists wander through (it is, for the most part, far too big in live in anymore, and so we occupy one of the wings sometimes, and generally maintain the rest as a museum). It was, to be plain, the Phantomhive mansion.

Lying against a balcony that overlooked the garden, lay four people I recognised immediately from several old photographs I had seen. Three of them were talking worriedly amongst themselves, and as we neared they noticed our approach and cried happily, "Mister Sebastian! Welcome back!"

Said man (monster?) smiled, and stated lightly, "We've returned." To which the three of them began to fire questions, where had he been? How was the young master? What was wrong with them?

Clearly, these three were the life of the party, and a great deal more friendly than their master and his butler.

The monster simply waved each question off with a plain, "We just tripped while we were out."

_Yeah, just a 'little' trip. More like 'off a cliff, into an abyss on pile of sharp rocks' trip,_ I thought, duly unimpressed at the explanation. But decided against voicing that.

The oldest of the three, a man with sandy hair, shared my opinion and grumbled, "What the hell?" irritably, and then began to grumble about a pie of some sort most comically, which resulted in me laughing louder than I should have.

All three turned to me curiously, and the youngest, a blonde boy with wide doe-eyes said, "Oh, Mister Sebastian, who's this?"

"Ah yes," he began, inducting a sense of game-show introduction into his voice, "you three, this is the young master's sister, she has been studying in Paris and will be staying with us for a short amount of time while we discuss some business matters."

I blanched slightly, voice refusing to function, so I waved shyly instead and tried to mask my displeasure at the arrangement.

Their curiosity having been sated, all three turned back to Ciel – who's expression clearly said he _did not_desire a sister any time soon – and began to talk lightly with the monster and boy about their over-all appearance.

I had no idea what to do, and so I stood awkwardly off to one side as Ciel snapped at the blonde boy for accusing him of playing 'upsie-daisy' with the monster, which encouraged a very small grin onto my face.

"Young Master," put in the monster suddenly, kneeling on one knee in front of the sulking boy, "please forgive my behaviour, I have made a grave error as the Phantomhive's butler." - At this, everyone's face took on an expression of astonishment, what could he have done? – " However might I compensate for it? Today's supper preparations have been left entirely unfinished."

Perhaps my stay wouldn't be too bad at all.

Ah, famous last words.

* * *

Well, that's two chapters in two days, I apologise for any spelling and punctuation mistakes I missed.

I'm going away for the next week or so (seeing an exhibition on Tim Burton, hoorah!), and so I might not be able to update next week, I will try though c:


	7. In which there is cold tea and amnesia

**If I've learnt anything the past two weeks I've been absent without leave, it's that computers hate me.**

Very much so. You see, my laptop, which like all good laptops, always breaks just when I'm about to save an essay or something equally important, did it again. Except that this time it seems to have built a defence against being fixed, so I had little choice but to have the hard-drive taken out of it to try and rescue everything I've done. Bleurgh.

Suffice to say, I'm going to need a new computer, until then, I'm just stealing my dad's.

I'm so, so sorry that it's taken me this long to get a new chapter up, so in compensation I've tried to make this chapter extra long.

Music theme: _Logic, Operator Please_

Sadly for me, I still don't own Kuroshitsuji (And if I did, Claude would be in trouble :|), nor do I own Operator Please, or anything else within the chapter.

* * *

If I was to die here and now, then if nothing else, at least I could happily say that I died in a comfy chair.

As the Phantomhive household was already a _great_ deal late for dinner, Ciel had allowed me to join in on the meal before I was taken up to his office for interrogation. It had been a meal filled with awkward silences of mammoth proportions, made only slightly better due to the quality of the food and the lavish decorations. Also, as the maid, who so dearly tried to serve me some wine with little success (firstly, her hands kept shaking, secondly, I still had the ghost of a hangover and declined out of sheer self-preservation), was very friendly and shared some friendly smiles with me from across the room. Ciel, on the other hand remained firmly fixated on his plate, and made no attempt at small talk the entire time. Sebastian, seeming to have picked up on his master's opt for silence, said nothing except to announce our meals when they came. I quickly got the sense that as soon as my (delicious) pudding was done, matters on hand would become very serious.

Ciel Phantomhive eyed me with doubtful look; he clearly didn't understand why I had so easily agreed to come with him and his monster butler after such a display. True, I had felt nothing but impending doom since I had awoken in Mr Vanel's mansion, but having met the servants and communed somewhat with the maid over dinner, I couldn't help but feel that if such warm and happy people lived here, then perhaps it wouldn't be so bad.

As per usual, I was proved ever so slightly wrong by luck, which had very kindly sent Sebastian back into the room with a cup of tea for both the boy and myself.

I eyed the teapot suspiciously, I would sooner trust Freja with a bottle of vodka and a hockey stick then a monster and a pot of tea. At dinner, Ciel and I had taken foods from the same platters, this time I was being offered a teapot of my own.

"You have nothing to fear Miss Skye," said Sebastian, clearly amused by my expression, "What sort of reputation would my Master have if I poisoned his guest's tea?"

I couldn't help but scoff slightly, "I doubt that your master would go around _telling_ people that you poisoned his guest's tea, Monsieur Butler. If I were to murder someone, I would be discrete."

"Are you making a suggestion?" snapped Ciel irritably, "Because if we do not begin soon, than you may well find that we'll be more than happy to comply."

I smiled with what hopefully looked like graceful acceptance, "Very well master Phantomhive, please begin."

He paused, shuffled some papers on his table, cleared his throat 'thoughtfully' and then finally said, "Who are you?"

Start at the beginning and work your way from there, I suppose.

I smiled calmly and said in the plainest tone, "I believe Master Phantomhive, I have already answered that question."

His eyes narrowed slightly, "No, you didn't. Who are you _really_?"

I placed my hands in my lap, chin raised slightly, and met his gaze, "My name is Skye, my family name is not important, I do not know why I was kidnapped by Vanel, but I am guessing it was a case of mistaken identity."

"You're clearly of a genteel family."

"That is hardly your business."

"It is now."

"No, it most certainly is not."

"Tell me."

"No."

We lapsed into a cold silence, Ciel glaring at me icily, I glaring back, he was being rude and childish, and had no incentive or desire to tell him anything. If he wished to play it as such, I would happily hold him to it.

We remained at this impasse for some time until Ciel quite abruptly turned to Sebastian, and demanded, "You do it."

Sebastian smiled, "Young Master, you need to learn the proper way to interrogate, however shall you ease her majesty's troubles if you cannot? " Ciel 's face contorted into that of one who had swallowed a lemon, snapping, "Well demonstrate then."

I suddenly felt very nervous, but forced all of my facial muscles into a state of paralysis.

Sebastian smiled and very graciously complied with a "Yes my lord."

My chair was suddenly twisted by, and to face the demonic man, "Miss Skye, please tell us your name. You would like to leave here in one piece I assume?"

I fidgeted, slightly '_Skye you've been through much worse than this'_, "Monsieur Butler, I believe you mentioned it would ruin your master's reputation to kill guests."

"And your retort Miss, no matter how impolite, was indeed correct, we would be very subtle about murder."

I nodded and steadied myself, preparing for any sign of hostility, "Indeed? And what good would such a thing do, when I pose no threat aside from the threat of secrecy?"

He smiled with mock understanding, but it seemed to me that he noticed the change in my stance, "Perhaps we shall take a step back; why do you not wish to tell us your name?"

I hesitated, I had no real reason to hide anything from them, aside from the obvious: They wouldn't believe me. It didn't matter if Ciel believed in demons. If he was anything like the Phantomhives I knew (i.e.: everyone in my bustling family of uncles, aunts, multiple cousins, parents, grandparents and siblings) then he would only believe in something after proof of its existence. But I needed help, and where better to seek it then from your family (Faustian contracts aside)?

Finally I conceded, and answered carefully, "I doubt you would believe me, as cliché as that sounds."

Sebastian smiled in a vaguely threatening matter, "Miss, that is hardly a valid answer."

What was I to say then? That I was Ciel Phantomhive's great-great granddaughter? That wouldn't go down well, more than likely I would wind up in a lunatic asylum… Unless I had proof.

A thought flickered across my mind, I had briefly considered the whereabouts of my bag earlier, hadn't I? Perhaps the kidnappers hadn't disposed of it. Perhaps it was still lying in the alley in London where I had first landed.

I took a slow, deep breath, "Look, it's far too hard to explain myself without my bag for proof. I…I believe I left it at the place where I was abducted, if I could only retrieve it than perhaps I could explain more fully to you."

I was stalling more than anything, my bag was probably long gone, but if it saved time for me to weave them a story then it would do.

Ciel considered this for a moment, "very well," he said plainly, "Sebastian, this is an order. Find her bag within the next half hour."

I couldn't hide my disbelief at this, "Wait! What?" I started, "You don't even know where it is, let alone retrieve it within half an hour!"

The both of them, again with extremely similar mocking expression, turned to fully face me. Ciel placed his elbows on the desk, and rested his chin upon his clasped hands as the monster butler stepped from his side to the window stating with confident clarity, "Miss Skye, you should know by now that I am one _hell_ of a butler. Please have some faith in myself and the Young Master."

Upon those words, he threw the window wide open, and sprung out. Gone, faster than you could say _' Exorcise.'_ Which, yes, I realise is a very bad joke.

Ciel, I realised, had a very pompous expression placed upon his young features. Clearly, he fully expected Sebastian to return triumphantly with my bag within the next half-hour, without the monster even _knowing_ what sort of bag he was looking for, let alone knowing where it was.

All I could say was, this was going to be one _hell_ of a stay with relatives.

Pun only slightly intended

* * *

Over the course of the next half-hour, Ciel continued to question me as I quietly sipped my - now rather cold - cup of tea. Naturally, I felt the slightest bit obliged to answer his questions as he was technically my own flesh and blood.

Granted, I didn't answer nearly as much as he would've liked, and there was simply nothing he could do to make me talk without Sebastian to aid his efforts.

He asked a few questions about my calm demeanour back at Vanel's mansion, I replied to all of these with a simple, "I'm fairly used to stressful situations," which he followed on with a, "What sort of stressful situations?" which I would never answer. The boy's patience was wearing very close to paper-thin by the time the twenty-five minutes had passed, and I knew that as soon as Sebastian had returned, I would probably be facing the consequences, so I opted for polite conversation to lighten the characteristically gloomy Phantomhive mood.

"So, whereabouts did you pick up such an impressive butler?" I inquired lightly. Ciel's face darkened a great deal upon my question, and it seemed to me that that atmosphere did too.

His ice blue eye connected with mine, and at that moment a heavy realisation of the boy's full maturity washed over me with cold truth. The diary of his steward, Takana, briefly mentioned the boy's imprisonment and return with Sebastian, but as with all people in life, you can never really understand their traumas fully unless you witness it firsthand.

The maturity of his gaze and behaviour was truly astounding, for all his quips on curt words. I realised just how much the memory of meeting Sebastian really effected him, and there was no doubt in my mind that the cult responsible for the death of Vincent and Rachael Phantomhive, were also responsible for the boy's choices regarding demonic contracts.

Before Ciel could say anything I quickly murmured a small, "Sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

Confusion appeared in his visible eye, but not on his face – he was a Phantomhive and therefore too proud to admit confusion, and he opened his mouth to say something, but did not get the chance as the window neatly opened and in jumped Sebastian, with perfect grace and a very familiar bag in his hands.

He placed said familiar bag on his master's desk, and again I found myself faced with two very similar _'I told you so'_ expressions.

"Miss Skye's bag, Young Master, just as you had requested."

Ciel nodded, but did not thank Sebastian, instead he opened my poor, neglected bag and pulled out the first object he could find - my mobile phone. He turned it in his hands a couple of times, pressed a few buttons, and I couldn't help but snicker at his confusion when he accidentally unlocked it and the backlight turned itself on.

"What is this?" he demanded, unsettled by my laugh.

I smiled a bit, "That," I said with a tone of higher intelligence – which was silly, I know he couldn't have possibly known what a phone was – "Is a communication device, called a phone."

I glanced at Sebastian, hoping to see some sort of curiosity or wonder on his face, but instead he features were completely blank.

Ciel put my phone on the table and began to empty the contents of my bag. I was slightly concerned that he would find something he shouldn't – like in all of those time travel movies where the world gets stuffed up because someone steps on a butterfly or something equally as harmless.

As per usual, it was just my luck that he retrieved Takana's diary and recognised the photograph on the cover.

"How did you get this?' Ciel demanded, unguarded anger at the apparent intrusion of privacy blatant on his face. I noticed that Sebastian had taken a step towards me, which sent me into flurry of poor vocal use to keep the demon at bay, ranging from pathetic squeaks, to ramblings regarding a non existent fiancée who was,_"probably… wondering where I am. The poor – haha! – dear."_

Looking back, that was a day in my life where I could happily slap myself for displaying such poor self-restraint.

Obviously, none of my pathetic attempts at excuses even remotely convinced neither the boy nor the demon, and I soon found myself trying to shrink away from a very scary butler, and finding that I couldn't pass through furniture, nor could I shrink, become invisible, or teleport.

"Miss," Said the butler, with a smile on his face that worried me a great deal, "Would it not be more simple for you to just tell the Young Master where you acquired this book, then to babble away like an imbecile?"

"Well, yes," I squeaked, and then quickly said, "-I mean, no. No it wouldn't."

"And why is that?" asked the monster, still smiling as though he was about to eat me.

"Because…" My mind was racing to find a convincing excuse, but soon reported back to me that there was none, and I might as well pack it in and tell them the truth, "because the reason I have is completely ridiculous and I wouldn't like to end my day in a lunatic asylum."

"And why should you worry about that?" He asked, a little less threateningly, now that I was – to my shame –giving intelligible answers.

Behind the butler, I saw that Ciel was not listening as intently as I had hoped and instead was flicking through the diary. Again the thought of me accidentally destroying the world, or killing my ancestors before I could ensure the continuation of the family line flickered through my mind.

"Hey!" I cried, "Don't read that!"

Ciel looked at me curiously, "Why shouldn't I?" he challenged, opening the book again, just to mock me.

"Because- Oh forget it. _Because of spoilers you idiot_!" I cried.

_Ah, and there goes the cat, escaping from the bag._

Now Ciel became fully interested. He put the book down and shared a glanced with Sebastian briefly, before turning back to me, "Spoilers…?"

I sighed, defeated. "Yes… spoilers. Spoilers meaning things that haven't happened yet. Obviously."

Meeting the eyes of the demon, and following that, the boy, I took in a slow deep breath before plunging into what I hoped was a convincing explanation. I may be the current Queen's watchdog, but aside from such an occupation, I was never very good at lying under pressure. Thus, I had nowhere to turn but the unlikely truth, and I could only hope they believed me.

I figured that now my bag had returned to me, I may as well use it for my explanation, showing them my wallet, a photo of myself and my friends, my mobile, my notebook, bits of the diary and various other objects I owned. Following that I showed them the Phantomhive ring, upon which Ciel bit back a small gasp and lent back in his chair, his face expressionless and his one good eye settled on me thoughtfully. Again I was reminded that my family history revolved around, and was built upon the tragedies that this boy had suffered not that long ago.

"...I honestly don't understand any of it. But that's who I am, and there's nothing more to say." I concluded, sincerely hoping they believed me. I felt I had enough proof to earn their belief, but I couldn't really be sure.

Ciel's expression was unreadable as he took in all the information I had given, finally, after a long silence he glanced questioningly towards Sebastian, "Have you heard of such things before?"

Sebastian placed one gloved hand to his chin, a thoughtful expression on his features, "I suppose it is plausible. I have heard of situations involving enchanted jewellery. Young Master, may I examine _your_ ring?"

Ciel stiffened upon the request, he glaring sharply at Sebastian who merely smiled patiently. I felt as though I had faded into the background, and was no longer a part of the conversation, so in an attempt to make my self noticed, I coughed lightly and said, "You know, it might be a good idea to let him have a look. You wouldn't want to end up in a situation like mine."

The boy directed his glare back towards me, before he relented, taking the ring off his thumb and placing it in Sebastian's hands.

After a moment of inspection, Sebastian placed the ring back in Ciel hands.

"Well?" Demanded Ciel, as he put the ring back on his thumb.

"Young Master, it appears to me that there _is_ an enchantment on you ring. But one that is scheduled."

I stood up from my chair, almost knocking my tea cup of the desk in my haste, "_Scheduled?_ You mean someone _intended_ for this to happen?"

The demon again had that infuriating serene expression on his face, "Essentially, yes."

The information washed over me and a heaviness came into my legs. I sat back down, rubbing my right hand across my foreheads tiredly, "Well, that's great. _Just peachy._"

"Well. There's no point complaining," said Ciel heavily. I looked up to find him looking at me with very Phantomhive-ish ice blue stare, "You should be glad we found you. Complaining is a weakness, and if you really are a Phantomhive, then you oughtn't be weak," he then turned to the butler, "Sebastian, you will take Miss Skye to a room for her stay, and then you will bring me some shortcake. We'll conclude this discussion for now."

Sebastian bowed, humbly saying, "Yes My Lord."

Ciel turned to me, "if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask the servants, we shall do what we can to look into your situation. A placement for yourself for the time being shall be arranged in the morning."

I nodded.

"Miss Skye, please follow me," Sebastian opened the door, smiling patiently as I re-packed my bag, stood and moved to follow him. I paused, and turned back to Ciel, the boy's attention was now on several papers on his desk, but I felt I should show some sort of gratitude for providing me with a place to stay.

"Thank you," I said quietly. Ciel looked up briefly and scoffed, before turning back to the papers.

It was a quiet walk to my room, but I wasn't complaining. I didn't really want to talk to a demon that flitted between smug and serene in a heartbeat anyway.

Even after spending at least sixteen summer vacations here at the Phantomhive mansion in my own lifetime, I still had trouble recognising the places we passed. Something wasn't right about the place. It felt, well, different. Like it wasn't really the house I knew. It had burnt down and been rebuilt not that long ago, I knew that much, perhaps a similar thing was to happen in future? The thought seemed familiar, but strange and foreign all at once – something I ought to have taken more notice of.

But then, I supposed that it didn't really matter how many times the mansion burnt down, because the demon I was currently following could probably build it up again in one day, couldn't he? Probably, he could do a great many impossible things, and I supposed I would bare witness to many of them sooner or later. I wondered if he minded being bound in a contract – what he was like unbound, and how desperate one must be for a soul to consent to slavery to get it. Moreover, how soon was Ciel to lose his?

Suddenly, we stopped.

Sebastian politely held the door open for me, quietly saying. "If you need anything, just ring the appropriate bell. I shall send up an after dinner snack and some nightwear in a short while."

I nodded, "Thank you."

The butler smiled yet again as he made a move to leave, "there is no need to thank me Miss Skye, especially when you don't really mean it," upon those words, he left, leaving me to stare stupidly at the space where he had been.

* * *

I spent approximately the next fifteen minutes fuming over Sebastian before I finally took a proper look around my new room. There was simply no other word to describe it but, _'grand'_. Lavished with silk, elegant colours, and more than enough tassels to satisfy my childish love of them. I was definitely satisfied with my temporary lifestyle, if not with the people I was staying with.

I sat down on the king-sized bed, sighing happily at the prospect of finally have some comfort, and placed my bag on the bedside table.

The keychain my brother had made for me before I moved to Paris jangled slightly upon impact, and I felt a hard pang in my heart.

I was _one hundred and forty years_away from home. _One hundred and forty years_ away from my friends, my family, my job, and it didn't really look like I was ever going to find my way back.

They were gone from my life. Maybe forever.

The realisation of my loss crashed over me like a wave. I had been too full of adrenalin to even think about where I was until now, I was alone in a world I'd only ever heard about.

I fell back onto the bed, and stared at the ceiling. I'd been alone plenty of times before, hell, I lived in France for a good five years and that never stopped me. I was solitary by nature, but I always knew I'd get back to my loved ones eventually if I needed them.

Sometimes I thought I was going to die without saying goodbye to my friends and family, and that always frightened me, but that's not the same as being alive and alone.

I was probably never going to see Mum or Roddy, or Aunt Celeste, or my cousins, or my colleagues, or my book club, or Justin or anyone else ever again.

But wasn't there someone else I was missing?

My train of thought came to a screeching halt. Who could I possibly have forgotten? I furrowed my brow and tugged at the drapery in thought. I felt it was someone very important. But I couldn't place it.

My Dad? No, he died years ago, and I can still remember that. There was someone else, someone I normally treasured as family, but just couldn't place and name and a face, and yet I was sure I had only thought about them not that long ago.

"Well." I said aloud, to the nearest tassel on my right, "They can't be _that_ important if I can't remember them."

Still, I couldn't help but feel a little uneasy.

Thankfully, it was at this time that my unease was broken by a knock and a small feminine voice calling from the other side of the door, "Excuse me!"

I stood and made my way to the door. Out of habit I foolishly replied with a, "Who is it?" which was followed by a small pause as a mentally slapped myself for being so rude.

"I-I'm Maylene! The maid! We met over dinner," squeaked the voice, "I've brought you some clothes and some food!"

I opened the door, and in stumbled the redhead from this evening, almost spilling the tray of food as she went.

"H-hello!" She stuttered, a bit embarrassed about her entry. She curtsied, and I eyed the tray as the jug of milk sloshed dangerously about.

"Hello," I said after I was sure I wasn't about to see flying food.

"Mr Sebastian a-asked me to b-bring up some food a-and clothes… so I did," she explained, placing the tray down on a table by the window, the milk spilling over the jug.

I smiled, "That's good to know. I'm sorry, I didn't properly introduce myself earlier, My name is Skye."

The girl grinned, "Pleased to m-meet you Miss S-skye, and welcome home!" she curtsied again, and made her way to the door. Slightly disappointed that my new companion was leaving so quickly I hastily asked, "hey Maylene, how exactly do you cope being the only girl around here?" if I was the only girl in a mansion like this, I would have gone insane a long time ago.

She laughed a little, "It's not t-that bad. Everyone is v-very nice here, I guess you'll figure that o-out soon enough though! I'll see you in the morning M-miss S-skye."

"Yes, see you tomorrow."

The door closed behind her, and again, I found myself utterly alone.

* * *

Well, hopefully that was a long enough chapter.

I had a stupid amount of trouble trying to characterize Ciel, which is weird because I found Sebastian to be fairly alright, but absolutely had no idea what Ciel would say and how he would react. He's such an unflappable thing, hopefully I'll get better at that. I'm sorry if any characters are ooc

Next chapter, things are about to be cutified...  
ciao


	8. In which there are skulls and dances

**Rejoice! For here is another chapter**. goodo..., well, it's almost midnight here, and I'm more than likely talking solely from lack of sleep adrenalin. So I shall make this quick :)  
I know I already fail amazing at updating regularly, but I've taken up a very important project, I need to write a small fifty page story by the first of December and if I meet the deadline I might get published :D Even if I don't, it's still a little challenge for me, but the only problem is, I may have to devote more of my time to it than to this (however Skye is still my most favorite character I have made, and she is mah babeh) _I am still working on this_ because I'm have a huge amount of fun :D But priority wise, I need to focus on my other story. Hopefully It won't effect my updating anyway :)

_Music theme for chapter: **Northcote, so hungover by The Bedroom Philosopher **(Because this chapter made me giggle, and so does this song)** and Hotel California by The Eagles** (For the last scene)  
_I don't own Kuroshitsuji, however much I wish for it. Nor do I own Edgar Allen Poe or Shakespeare. They own themselves.

* * *

My first night in the household of Ciel Phantomhive was a restless night. I had fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning with a heavy, aching weight in my stomach, which was more than likely an ache of dread and homesickness. I had felt a similar ache when I had first moved to Paris at twenty years of age, and it seemed I was suffering its wrath again.

I lay in the far too elegant bed for hours my mind racing a mile a minute for a proper, reasonable, solution to my predicament. My brain stubbornly refusing to let me sleep, and when sleep finally came; it was an unwelcoming, dreamless sleep. Something akin to being smothered by a blanket – I wanted to go home, regardless of how interesting my stay could be.

I'm not one of those people who, upon sleeping in a new environment, wake up and wonder where they are. As I said, I'm the Queen's Watchdog, thusly, I move around from place to place quite often on the job. Usually for one or two nights – which is a great deal different to an unknown amount of time in a new time/country mind you. So instead of waking up in a panic for lack of knowledge as to where I was, I awoke with a sense of loneliness, gazing at the ceiling as the events of the previous day washed over me.

I sat up tiredly, rubbing my eyes, mid-morning light had flooded the room, the curtains wide open. No doubt Sebastian had come in earlier, but had decided against waking me up. Somewhere about the mansion, I'm sure I could hear a high pitched male voice screaming out in terror, but decided against investigating the noise.

Sitting on my bedside table was a tray of breakfast, namely a pot of tea – which was still hot, meaning Sebastian had only come a short while ago – and a very delicious looking plate of eggs, bacon and toast. Upon the sight of such enticing food, my stomach made an audible reminder as to it's hunger, and did not hesitate to place the tray on my lap and begin to eat.

Breakfast in bed was a surprisingly luxurious, and uninterrupted experience. I hadn't really had a proper lie in for a very long time, and I was mildly delighted at the chance to do so in such an elegant place. Perhaps I had used up the majority of my bad mood over night, and today was meant for optimism, instead of worry.

Of course, as per usual – and not for the last time – coincidence slapped me in the face, with a Sebastian, knocking on the door and calling through it, "Miss Skye, I trust you are awake?"

I groaned a tiny, irritable groan, and rolled out of the warmth of the king-sized bed. Dragging my feet across the soft carpet, I approached the door calling out, "Yes. What do you want?" with a hint of acidity in my voice.

The only reply I received was silence, and I was absolutely certain the demon was smirking at me through the door. I glared at the door pointedly, hoping that Sebastian could feel my mood through the poor, abused piece of wood.

"Monsieur Butler?" I called again, louder and with more acidity in my voice. I was certain I could hear a quiet mocking laugh before a calm male voice said, "Miss Skye, I have brought you of appropriate clothing, may I come in?"

Before I could reply, the door swung open and sure enough, in strode Sebastian with a bundle of clothing in his arms. He had a thin smile on his face as he said, "These belong to Maylene, but she had offered to lend them to you until your 'baggage arrives from France'. The young master is planning to go to town today, and he asked me to inform you that if you are ready by ten o'clock, then you may accompany him and assist in the purchase of some finer clothes."

I nodded stiffly, and said in a reluctant tone, "thankyou. May I ask what the time actually is?"

Sebastian smirked, "The time, I believe, is nine forty five. You had best be quick if you want to join us, I shall be waiting to show you down to the carriage," which that, he bowed, placed the clothing in my hands and exited the room without another word.

I remained silent for a moment, trying to take in what I had been told. Before I let out a loud, frustrated shriek and threw my nightgown off. Trying to figure out the quickest way to put in a Victorian dress in fifteen minutes flat.

* * *

An agonisingly short while later, I stepped furiously into the hallway and glared at the patiently waiting butler. His ever-present, mocking smile greeted me as he said, "Follow me Miss Skye."

As we walked I continued to glare at the butler's back pointedly, hoping sincerely that the relentless stare would unnerve him. However, if he was aware of my glare (which was very likely) he did not say anything.

Eventually, Sebastian lead me outside to a horse and carriage that was waiting outside. Standing by the carriage was Ciel Phantomhive, with an expression similar to my own. Glaring pointedly at the two of us, demanding, "What took you so long?"

Sebastian opened the door to the carriage dutifully as he said, "I apologise Young Master. Miss Skye had a small amount of difficulty dressing herself."

"Excuse me!" I cried, outraged, "Don't blame it on me! You gave me fifteen minutes to figure out how to put on a circus tent!"

"Shut up and stop being so childish." Snapped Ciel, as he climbed into the carriage. I rolled my eyes and grumbled quietly about common etiquette as I followed suit.

I've only ridden in a carriage once before. It was for a novelty tour around the centre of London when I was six. Mother, father and I had just had a rather large lunch and I was finishing the meal off with a stick of cotton candy. I can clearly remember that I had felt so sick on the bumpy ride that I had thrown up suddenly on my Father's lap. Suffice to say, I was never really keen on novelty carriage rides after that.

Apparently, roughly twenty years later, I was still not too keen on carriage rides. Perhaps it was more of a psychological dislike of them that made me feel ill, or perhaps it was actual nausea. Regardless, about half an hour into the trip, I was leaning out the wind trying to breathe in proper fresh air and hoping I wouldn't be sick before we arrived in London.

Ciel had been quiet the entire ride, also, he was rather disgusted at my sudden 'carriage sickness' and was glaring at me rather sourly, which really did not encourage me in the slightest.

"What's your problem?" I demanded, before leaning out the window again – just in case.

The boy looked pointedly at me, before saying rather icily, "You have not ridden in a carriage before?"

"No. I have not, I usually travel by car, which I assume you know of, they have been invented by now – haven't they?" I replied. Ciel nodded, and then turned away from me, gazing at the passing world.

"In any case." I continued, mostly to myself, "I should probably get used to this. Shouldn't I?"

Ciel did not reply, and so I resumed my attempt at keeping my nausea down by leaning out the window closest to me.

* * *

A short while later, we arrived in London. Sebastian dutifully opened the door, and after Ciel had exited, I stumbled out. Thankful to be on solid, non-bumpy, ground - Aside from the cobble stone roads of course.

Immediately, we set off. As I was now more accustomed to the fact I was in Victorian England, I took the opportunity to gaze around me. There was a general lack of sanitation in some areas, and a very distinct atmosphere I was rather taken to.

The clothing people were wearing as they bustled around, going about their daily business was certainly interesting. Some were clearly poor, wearing mostly browns and greys, while other wore bright colours and rather fancy clothing.

I gazed down at the dress Maylene had so kindly lent me. It was as very pretty blue, and was not quite poor in appearance, but too plain to all that rich either. It was more than likely that I stood out a bit following an aristocrat and his butler about the place.

Ciel had several errands to attend to. Ranging from the purchase of some pastries, to picking up a cane that had been dented by the gardener, Finny. It soon became clear to me that even in the Victorian Era, the Phantomhives were well known as entrepreneurs. Although, in my time, Funtom is not just a business that sells toys and sweets, we also deal with foods, clothing (courtesy of my aunt who is a fashion designer), and cars. Part of my studies in France was a business course, the other part being a course in forensics but I dropped out of that, I decided I was not nearly as skilled or dedicated as I needed to be .

Eventually, we found ourselves at a tailor, Sebastian's arms laden with many packages from our previous stops. A bell rung as we stepped into the shop, and a small man with glasses far too big for his face peered over the counter.

"Gid day, wha' can I do for yee?" he croaked, and I noticed that he was fiddling hopefully with an old cashier's box.

Ciel stood at full height, and said in his best authoritative tone, "I've been told you are one of the best tailors for women in London."

"Tha' best young sir. Tha' best." He squeaked excitedly, bustling around the counter to get a closer look.

Ciel indicated to myself, "My sister had recently returned from overseas. Her luggage, however, was lost on the trip and she is in need of some clothing."

The little man bobbed up and down elated. "Young Sir!" he cried, "I can 'ave ten o' my best dresses done by tha' end of tha' week!"

"Excellent." Said Ciel, "However she will need one of those dresses within two hours, can you do it?"

The man stopped bobbing for a brief moment, thoughtfully. Before he smiled and declared, "Come back in two hours and yee'll find yer sister in tha' finest dress in London!"

Ciel nodded, satisfied, before turning away, "I'll return in an hour then. Sebastian! Let's go."

I supposed that meant I was to stay with the little man.

_Goody goody._

The small tailor turned to me delightedly, "Don't yee worry little miss. Yee'll soon have a dress ten times better than tha' one's yee lost."

He pulled out a measuring ribbon and some needles, "Dress off if yee dun' mind Miss" He said happily, and I reluctantly obliged. "blue'd be best for yee, blue taffeta n' beaded lace. " he murmured thoughtfully, climbing a ladder to one of the higher shelves in his little shop.

After collecting the materials he needed, he quickly flew into action, a blur of materials, laces, pins and ribbons, whilst I only half hoped that I could get away unscathed.

* * *

Two hours later, I left the Old Little Tailor a very happy, mildly richer little man. He was a rather sweet man, I had decided, and he was certainly very good at his job. Even Ciel and Sebastian had approved of the new, blue and black-laced dress.

However. I wasn't too keen on the corset, which the Tailor had offered with the dress. I rather like breathing you see, and this horrible metal contraption was doing a very good job of preventing such a thing from happening.

The carriage ride back was just as unpleasant as the trip to London had been. Only this time I had to deal with a lack of air as well as the nausea. Which put me in a rather foul mood, a mood that was proving to be my default setting it seemed.

Upon arriving back at the Phantomhive mansion, I decided I would be spending the rest of the day as a social recluse in the library, which, hopefully contained enough books to satisfy me for the rest of my time here, because I was hoping to get away with not being involved in any Watchdog business Ciel would be doing.

Unfortunately for me, I would be doing nothing of the sort. For as soon as Sebastian opened the door, it was clear something was very, very wrong.

Someone had vandalised the mansion with _pink, girly, glittery goodness._

_Pink. Girly. Glittery. Goodness._

"What the-?" started Ciel in horror, but he was not given the chance to finish his sentence as three particular servants came sprinting towards us shrieking, "SEBASTIAN, SEBASTIAN!" as they came.

Sebastian looked genuinely surprised as the servants clambered around him, wearing strangely adorable costumes, "What in the world is this?" his said curiously, as the three of them wailed piteously, "More importantly, what on earth are you wearing?"

The tall blonde man, whose name I didn't yet know jerked his thumb towards a door growling, "Go ask the crazy girl." I raised an eyebrow and thought back to the diary, wasn't Ciel's fiancée a bit of a crazy girl?

Ciel turned to the door curious, and murmured "That crazy girl…?" as all of us edged cautiously towards it. One by one we peered through the door intrigued as to whom was behind this horrific act of vandalism.

There was a man. Covered in orange ribbons. Hanging himself.

"What the HELL are you doing?" Demanded Ciel bursting through the door towards the man, I most certainly had not seen before.

The man was swing pathetically by his noose and his gasped, "As you can see, I am dying."

How was I supposed to react to that exactly?

Ciel sighed frustratedly, and muttered, "Take him down Sebastian." To which the butler replied with a simple, "Understood," and approached the bizarre man, but as he reached out to assist the crazy, there was a high pitched squeal of "Ciiiiiiiieeeeeeeeelllllll!" and a rough whoosh, and a little blonde girl viciously attacked Ciel.

Well, hugged him violently, anyway.

"Ciel! I missed you!" The bo-peep lookalike gushed affectionately, hugging the poor boy to his wit's end.

Ciel gasped out, "Elizabeth!" and she stepped back quickly, grinning and crying, "I _told_ you to call me Lizzie, Remember!" Before resuming her hugging attack. "You really are just the _cutest_ thing _ever_ aren't you?" she squealed.

Sebastian, having retrieved the hanging man from the ceiling, decided to rescue his master from death by hug, saying politely, "Lady Elizabeth."

Immediately Lady Elizabeth let Ciel go, who, in turn stumbled away exhaustedly whilst Elizabeth greeted Sebastian and engaged in an amusing conversation about how the suicidal man ruined the atmosphere.

The conversation seemed to simply flow from there, Lady Elizabeth clearly one with a flair for the dramatic, and especially for the cute. Suddenly, the young girl, after everyone had 'properly appreciated' Tanaka, turned and happily placed a bright pink bonnet on Sebastian's head.

That just about did it for me, and I burst out laughing, holding my sides in the hilarity of it all, as did the servants. Until Sebastian shot each of us a very threatening death stare, which caused the servants to quiet down, but I simply could not suppress a giggle.

As Elizabeth chattered away to Ciel, Sebastian briefly explained her relationship to the Young Master, I was already aware of their relationship, so I stood off to the side smiling at the ridiculousness of it all.

"Oh Yes! Since the mansion has been decorated nicely, we should have a dance party!" She declared suddenly. My smile faltered for an instant, I am not a good dancer, and I don't make a habit of doing any sort of dancing while sober.

Ciel tensed in horror, but before he could react, Elizabeth grasped his wrist and began to spin him around, proclaiming how romantic the upcoming event would be, and how Ciel would be wearing the clothes she picked out for him, while the poor boy tried his hardest to talk her out of it.

"Oh!" She cried, clasping her hands, "I have to do my make up!" She then advanced on the suicidal crazy and grabbed him by the noose, "Come on! I'll make you cuter too!" She squealed, dragging the poor man off to certain death by cosmetics.

"Listen to what other people are telling you!" Ciel tried to shout after her. But the door slammed behind her and we were left in an awkward silence.

* * *

After that fiasco, I quietly made my way to the library, which Sebastian directed me to upon request. It was indeed as big as it was in modern day, and was filled not only with books, but also with many interesting maps, a skull – which I fondly named 'Yorick' because I figured I was probably going to be seeing him more often – and a few cases of pinned butterflies.

I sat down contentedly on a plush arm chair, and reached out for the book closest at hand – Edgar Allen Poe's Tales of Mystery and Imagination. Excellent.

I had long since decided I would not be attending this so called 'dance party'. Lady Elizabeth had barely even noticed my presence, so it was unlikely she would miss me at the dance, and Ciel and Sebastian most certainly would not.

Sebastian had explained that the eccentric, suicidal man was an apprentice butler by the name of Grell Sutcliffe, and odd name, which I was sure I knew from somewhere, but could not quite place it. According to Sebastian, Grell was very clumsy and over the top when faced with failure or humiliation.

However, he was in my opinion, very, very funny.

I curled up on the armchair and contented myself with 'The telltale heart' for a a pleasurable amount of time before I heard the sound of someone running down the corridor.

Quite suddenly, Elizabeth Middleford Burst happily through the door crying, "There you are!"

I looked up worriedly, I had a strong feeling I was about to get a severe makeover.

"Ciel told me about you Cousin Skye!" she gushed, skipping over to me and swinging on her heels. "I feel so bad I can't remember you!"

Ah. So the plot thickens. It seems Ciel really is going with the story of me being an older sister who lived in France.

"Don't worry about it Cousin Elizabeth." I smiled, deciding to play along with Ciel's story, "I remember you very clearly."

She giggled bashfully, and cried, "Oh! You so look so much like Ciel! You'd be so pretty if you tried. Let me do your make up! And I have absolutely the cutest clothes for you too~!"

Before I could protest I was being dragged out of the library by my wrists, leaving a very enjoyable book, Yorick, and a very comfortable chair behind.

Alas poor Yorick. I knew him well.

* * *

In the end, I found myself back in the library psyching myself up for a dance party, wearing a very… well…_ interesting_ ensemble of a light blue Lolita dress, a string of pearls around my neck, an eye patch I'd rather not describe and a pair of white feathery wings which Elizabeth had somehow found in London and bought 'just in case'.

The skull, Yorick, was facing me, and I was pacing worriedly.

"I suppose it's too late for me not to go, isn't it?" I said allowed.

Naturally, Yorick said nothing..

"Well, I suppose that is the appropriate answer. But I really don't want to go. Especially, looking like this. Think about it, would you go dressed like this?"

Yorick remained silent.

"Fine. Have it your way. I'll go, but bare in mind I won't talk to you at all tomorrow."

Still Yorick remained silent.

I stalked frustratedly out go the room, and down the corridor, half wishing that I could bring the skull with me as some form of comfort. Alas, Elizabeth would not allow it in the slightest, and I would rather keep Yorick in one piece.

It took me a while to figure out where exactly the dance hall was, as I was still mildly unsure of my bearings, but I soon found Sebastian on the stairway, playing the violin, while Grell sang and the rest of the part danced. Most noticeable of all was Ciel and Elizabeth spinning around the centre of the room, Ciel trying his best not to step on Elizabeth's toes, and Elizabeth simply enjoying herself.

Sebastian caught my eye, and smirked a tiny bit at my outfit. Unimpressed, I ventured towards him cautiously. He was playing a lively tune, as Grell sung along, but he seemed to be perfectly capable of talking and playing at the same time.

"Have I missed very much?" I enquired lightly, as Finny swung Tanaka around happily.

The butler smiled and closed his eyes as the tune heightened, "There was a little _drama_ earlier in regards to the Young Master's ring, but it is nothing I can't fix."

"Of course" I replied a little dryly, "Well you seem a little busy there, so I might go and mingle."

"Of course Miss Skye."

I descended the stair case and, side stepping the dancing couple, made my way towards Maylene. She smiled awkwardly at me, as I approached.

"Lively sort of party isn't it?" I said laughingly, and stood beside her. She smiled pushing her glasses up her nose, and stuttered, "They l-look so cute!"

"Mmm" I agreed, and turned to the tall, blonde man currently dressed in a pink drag next to her, "By the way, I don't think we've really been introduced."

He grinned at me, biting down on his cigarette and declared, "I'm Bard! I'm the chief around here!"

I nodded politely, and the three of us began to engage in conversation for the rest of the night.

It really wasn't such a bad place, if you tried to avoid the two constant downers for healthy amounts of time each day.

* * *

As soon as the party had finished, I had bade goodnight to every one and hurried of to get changed and hopefully have a bath in my – delightedly – private bathroom. However I accidentally took a left turn down one the corridors and soon found myself lost in the dark, a very common past time for me unfortunately.

I wandered aimless, half expecting a monster to jump me in the dark for several minutes before I spotted some light protruding from a door.

Quickly I rushed towards the source, but stopped when I heard the sounds of Ciel and Sebastian's voiced echoing from within. I placed my ear to the door, curious.

"- this ring had heard the final gasps of the family head again and again. If I close my eyes I can hear it too, that heart-wrenching cry." Moaned Ciel from inside, almost despairingly. He spoke the truth, it would one day hear his final breath, and each Phantomhive's breath after, including my father, and one day… my own.

"If I threw it away, I might not be able to hear those cries anymore, that's what I thought. It's pretty stupid really." He continued tiredly.

There was a pause, before Sebastian sighed and said, "The moon had already risen so high. Please rest now, otherwise it will effect your body"

The light shifted, and I stood back, afraid that Sebastian would catch me eavesdropping.

"Sebastian." Murmured the half asleep boy, "Stay by my side until I fall asleep."

I took the opportunity to tip toe away quietly, faintly I could hear Sebastian's words; "I will be by your side, no matter where that may be, until the end."

Until the end.

I approached the end of the hallway, and made to turn left, but had to stop as I collided with a vase, and cringed as it clanged loudly, quickly glanced around and panicked as I noticed a light heading in my direction. I had no where to go, and I was lost, so I gave up and waiting for Sebastian reach me.

"Ah, Miss Skye. I take it you are lost?" enquired the butler lightly, as he came to stop in front of me.

I nodded.

He smiled, "Allow me to show you the way then."

Soon enough I was finally back at my bedroom, which thankfully turned out to be only one corridor away from Ciel's.

I quietly thanked Sebastian, a little nervously, because I automatically associate the dark with monsters and demons and _oh, there's one right there with a candle!_ He in turn smiled at me, and bowed before turning away.

The last thing I saw as I closed the door was the demon and his candle-light fading away into the darkness.

"Goodnight Miss Skye."

* * *

Yes, and goodnight to you all :) Now Imma go to bed. I apologise for any grammar mistakes, I'll edit this later when I'm not about to fall asleep on the spot :)  
Reviews are welcome, flames, only if you have marshmallows and something helpful to say :D

_Next chapter, **there's something about Whitechapel**_

**_Or was that just an excuse to quote Morrissey?_**


	9. In which a plot point rears its head

**Oh good gracious**. I'm such a terrible author if I can't even properly update a story in six months. I feel terrible D:

It's not really my place to say what exactly has been keeping me away from writing, but essentially a great deal of things, nothing very good - some things I'm not sure we've gotten over, happened to myself and my family all at once and, honestly writing, as much as I love it, wasn't really my top priority. I know I should have at least posted a note, however it sort of slipped my mind :S. Regardless of that, I constantly feel so guilty about not updating, especially as I hate it when stories aren't updated myself. Eh, I'm such a hypocrite.

I can't apologise enough!

Slight language warning for beginning and ending of chapter, nothing too big, but still.

_Music for chapter:** cymbeline, by Loreena McKennitt.**_

_Here is a small fact: You are going to die_

_- death, the bookthief._

* * *

Death was walking the streets.

Perhaps that fact was entirely unrelated to the events of the following half-hour or so, perhaps not, either way it was the first time in decades that the heart of London was almost entirely still, and thus, the perfect time for the perverse hands of fate to begin the very long undoing of one particularly unusual resident of 1887 A.D.

The quiet clack of heels against cobblestone broke the silence of the quiet night, followed shortly by quiet, breathy humming.

Claudia Cotton was hungry, cold and fairly pissed-off. And anyone who had ever come into contact with Claudia knew that the above combination meant trouble; trouble usually inflicted upon anybody in a five-mile radius. Or her brother, if he were around, which, luckily for the unsuspecting residents of White Chapel and surrounding areas, meant that the majority of them would live to see another day.

Abruptly, Claudia stopped walking, and rubbed her arms to fight down a shiver, she huffed irritably and turned on the spot to face the street she had come down. "Are you coming or not, dimwit?" she hissed icily, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

She was met by silence for a moment, and so she squinted down the street, past the lights cast by the gas lantern, back into the darkness, expectantly.

Soon enough, another figure, puffing vigorously seemed to melt out of the shadows, he stopped as soon as he came into sight, placing his hands on his knees and huffing for a couple of moments before looking up and glaring at Claudia.

"Eff you Claudia," he snapped, before leaning over and puffing again.

"It's your own fault for being such a good for nothing slob, idiot," she replied with evident distaste for the boy's general existence.

"Claudia –"

"Jude."

They glared heatedly for some time, before the boy sighed heavily, and walked up to meet her. He was about half a head shorter than her, with dull grey eyes and a mop of unruly black hair, he was also clad in black and grey, as though dressed for a funeral.

She, on the other hand, was far more striking. Sharp, slightly feline features, brilliant blue eyes graced her face, and an impossibly straight black cut hung down past the small of her back. She too, was dressed as though in mourning,

Although the appearance of anyone on the street during the turbulent past few weeks was strange, stranger still was the fact that both of them were children. They couldn't possibly be any older than twelve, maybe fourteen, and certainly that was no age for anyone to be out on the streets at midnight, and yet, there they were.

Claudia scowled at the boy, before reaching out and twisting Jude's ear sharply, "You're too human for your own good brother," she snapped critically, and then turned sharply and began to walk away, "now hurry up."

Jude winced, rubbing his ear and muttering, "as if that's my fault, stuck up whore."

"I heard that."

"Good."

They walked briskly in silence for a while after that, Jude occasionally stumbling to catch up with his elder sister, to which he would earn a critical frown and a couple of holier-than-thou insults in his direction.

_The trouble with being more human than you'd like to be_, thought Jude,_ is that everyone looks down on you, and blames everything on you._

"I'm hungry," he whined, but Claudia ignored him as a couple of distant shouts broke through the quiet night. "Finally," hissed Claudia, grabbing Jude's wrist and breaking out into a sprint.

_Agility isn't too good either_, he added as a side note, as they swung around a corner into an alleyway. A stray cat yowled in protest as the two children sped past with a cold 'whoosh'. Jude winced as his feet squelched in something suspiciously like clay - but worse smelling - and then swore as he nearly hit his head at a sharp corner.

Eventually, they stopped. However Jude, being 'too human for his own good' and also still in a foul mood, was entirely unprepared, and ended up knocking them both to the ground.

"_Get off me you idiot!_" Claudia screeched, knocking him violently to the side, "my _god_, you're hopeless!"

"It's not like I want to be here," he whined, pushing himself up onto all fours miserably, "you dragged me along because you can't do it on your own and all I want to do is have dinner, or something _but no_, I'm out here on a wild goose chase looking for Jack-the-bloody-ripper," the final words he snarled out, getting onto his feet and swinging a punch at Claudia, who dodged it with graceful ease.

"Quiet," she snapped, and peered around suspiciously, "police could still be hanging around."

"_So what_," he grumbled, "we haven't done anything, and besides that we'd get away before they could even see our faces."

Claudia glared at him, and twisted his ear again, "So," she said over his piteous yelp, "they'll end up looking for us for ages, and we won't get a chance to find the reaper."

Jude sniffed.

Claudia glared disapprovingly at him for a long while, but fearing he would become painfully loud, she sulkily ventured down the closest, darkest, alley she could see and after a little sniffing around caught several mice and rats.

With terrified squeaks on the vermin's behalf, she broke their necks one by one.

"Here," she muttered, tossing five to Jude, "fresh and raw. Just how you like them."

Jude grinned hungrily.

* * *

I am no good at telling how much time has past without the use of a clock or calendar, and I am far too proud to ask someone what the day is for fear of seeming ignorant. And so, as days bled into weeks at the Phantomhive residence, I found myself becoming gradually more antisocial, hiding away in the library with only a skull for company, ignoring the dizzying speed that time seemed to be passing at.

I spent the time pouring over books of the occult, which are by no means in short supply for the Phantomhive family, watchdog business and the occult seem to go hand in hand. I had hoped to find at least one article on enchanted jewellery, but alas, even fiction would have been more helpful than what I had found so far.

However, I refused to believe I was trapped in the past. And I was certainly not going to stay put without a fight.

Since the 'party' I had hardly interacted with any members of the household at all, save for Maylene, who always brought my meals up to the library when I refused to make any other appearances. At first, that had surprised me somewhat, as I had assumed that was Sebastian's job, but after the initial shock, I was more than pleased to have as little contact with the demon as possible, and aside from that, I much preferred female company as opposed to egotistical monsters.

Bard and Finny seemed nice enough, but I felt that making more connections than necessary would result in disaster at some point in time or another, and so I politely informed Maylene that I had much studying to do, and so I probably couldn't socialise with her friends very much.

In fact, the longest I had been outside the library aside from night time, and small walks about the garden to stretch my legs, was when the bizarre little tailor from London, whom everybody had quite forgotten, had shown up a week after the party with far more then ten dresses, and a glowing disposition as he insisted I try every single one on for the household.

To say the least, I have never been quite so embarrassed in my life, and if nothing else, the whole incident encouraged me to spend more time hiding away.

"Now," I murmured quietly, flicking through an old bestiary bemusedly, "demons, demons, demons, ah! Here we go."

I skimmed the article quickly, but it held nothing I didn't already know, and certainly nothing I wanted to know.

I continued flicking through the book half-heartedly. I was so certain Sebastian had something to do with me being here, he certainly identified the cause of my travels quickly enough, he had an incredibly high and mighty temperament that suggested to me that although he was only a butler, he had complete control over the situation. He was also a creature of the occult, and my ring was an object that had recently become of the occult, and well… he was a monster, a soul-eating monster. I couldn't think of anyone more suspicious than that.

I continued to flick through the book with little vigour until a chapter piqued my interest, _'__Trí Dé Dána__ – the three gods of craftsmanship '._ Anything about craft could possibly be helpful, and aside from that, I was sure I had heard the term before from my grandfather (who was, in his old age, a very imaginative storyteller).

I began to skim the article hopefully, but was interrupted by the creaking of the library door.

I looked up with a smile, expecting to see Maylene with a tray of food or a message of some sort. However, my smile fell quickly as Sebastian stepped into the library.

"Miss Skye" he said in his usual, falsely polite tone of voice, "the young master is making the trip to his townhouse and requests your presence."

I nodded, putting the book on the table beside me, "when are we leaving?"

"In precisely fifteen minutes, you will need to bring enough belongings for the trip also, as we may stay for several days."

A scowl crossed my face before I could stop it, "well, _thank you_ for giving me time," I snapped irritably as I stood from the armchair.

Sebastian's expression did not change, instead he nodded in acknowledgement, and then left before I had the chance to react.

"Some courtesy they have around here," I grumbled childishly, picking up a pile of books to take along for the trip, "Yorick, despite the fact you are dead, and thus, utterly useless - I place you in charge of my research until further notice." I declared to the the unsurprisingly quiet skull, and then left the library with a quiet click of the door.

The carriage ride was by no means any better than the last trip to London, my stomach protesting with such hostility that I could only lean into the corner of the compartment and moan occasionally. Thankfully, Ciel was not the type for light conversation, and seemed far too preoccupied with a letter in his hand in any case.

It astounded me just how long it took for horse drawn transport to travel, I could see the countryside with perfect clarity through the gap between the curtains, as opposed to the rough blur that was seen through car windows. In fact, we were passing at such a slow pace, that there was absolutely no mistaking the small old man who had recently proven himself to an excellent tailor sitting at the roadside busying himself with a flute of some sort.

He looked up as the carriage past, and, meeting my eye, even had the nerve to wink.

I squeaked in surprise, and instantly turned away from the window, tugging the curtains fully closed for extra measure. Twice in a month is all well and good, but a third and completely unrelated incident is completely unwelcome.

I won't deny the fact I am often irrational to the point of paranoia. For example, when I was fifteen, I had the misfortune to come across a movie about a murderer that had a day job as a security guard, and choose his victims via security camera. After I had sat through the entire movie with a horrified fascination that often comes hand in hand with horror movies, I found I could never look directly at security cameras, and would attempt to stand at bizarre angles to them in hopes of remaining 'incognito'.

When I was five, my Aunt, Celeste, told me of an old Victorian superstition regarding mirrors and the dead (supposedly, if you look into a mirror shortly after the death of a loved one, you can see them, and they may well try to get out) even now, sixteen years later I have an intense dislike of mirrors, which is hardly helped by the fact I am by no means a pretty face.

All that aside, when your day job often results in frightening situations where someone always seems to be trying to kill you, you don't just pass things off as coincidence.

My little display seemed to have caught Ciel's attention, as he forced his gaze off the letter and placed it onto myself critically.

I pushed my more than likely irrational concerns out of my mind for the time being, and met the boy's gaze with equal criticism.

"What?" I challenged.

He continued to gaze evenly, as though debating whether or not it was worth it to answer my question. Finally he said plainly, "Your eye. It hardly seems like a coincidence."

Instinctively, I raised my hand and traced the long scar down my face, "I'd like to think it is," I said softly, "but honestly, it gets a bit hard to deny the facts however strange they are."

"Explain."

I laughed nervously, "you don't beat around the bush, do you kiddo?"

Ciel began to scowl, "get on with it," he muttered, clearly displeased about he fact I referred to him as 'kiddo'.

"Well, My Aunt, Celeste, she's a bit superstitious you see, always insisted it was a 'family curse' of some sort. I always told her it was rubbish, but still… every Phantomhive since you have had some sort of issue with their eyes," Ciel looked thoughtful, but didn't say anything, and so I continued, "Your oldest son, he loses his eye entirely in a…" I hesitated, because I doubted I should talk about World Wars that had yet to occur so casually, "… a fight. His daughter is born with an eye condition, her nephew loses his on watchdog duty, my Aunt has a lazy eye, and then there's me."

"You…?" pressed Ciel.

Again, I laughed nervously, "oh, it's… it's… uh… It's actually quite embarrassing really."

Ciel said nothing, but his face clearly stated his impatience.

I laughed awkwardly again, "You see… I… Well… I was a bit of a boisterous child… and I was pretending to be a pirate with one of my father's stake knives… and… I… tripped…" I could feel my cheeks burnings. It had been a fun story to tell as a girl, but now, it simply seemed pathetic compared to my other family stories.

"And you call yourself a watchdog." he deadpanned, clearly with little faith in his family's future.

I moaned again as my stomach gurgled unhappily, "no, no look, it's not as bad as it sounds, I'm just not good with social situations, on the job, I almost always do well, I –" however I did not get the chance to finished the sentence, as the carriage finally stopped.

The carriage door opened to reveal Sebastian, "Young Master, it's been a while since you last went out, isn't it?" he asked conversationally, as we both stepped out onto the gravel.

Ciel looked incredibly displeased, "I couldn't care less who sent that letter, I hate being in crowded places." he said bitterly, bordering on whiney, as Sebastian lead us into the house.

Well, to be honest, 'house' would be a complete understatement. The place was just as grand as the Phantomhive mansion, the carpet floored with beautiful velvety materials, flowers adorned almost every window, chandeliers hung from each ceiling we past and the wallpaper was utterly stunning, even the wood of the staircase we ascended was perfectly polished and more than likely of the finest wood available.

Ciel and Sebastian's voices faded into the background as I began to gaze all around me. '_and to think_,' I mused somewhat dryly, '_all I got was a lousy apartment_.'

Vaguely, I heard Sebastian say , "… We should be able to enjoy some peace and quiet."

"Peace and quiet, huh?" echoed Ciel as Sebastian opened the door in front of us.

However, it instantly seemed fairly obvious to me that Ciel would most certainly not be getting any sort of peace and quiet.

The room was in utter chaos, littered with piles of cutlery, plates and papers all strewn about the room as three people rummaged desperately about.

"Jeez, where do they put the tea leaves in this house?" cried a woman within the room in dramatic exasperation. She was covered from head to toe in bold, flamboyant red, even her hair and makeup was strikingly red.

"It's nowhere to be seen." Replied a man sitting on the floor gazing hopefully into a Ming vase, as though he thought there might be a hidden stash of tea leaves. He was clearly of Asian ethnicity, and even his clothes were traditional, although we were in London, England.

Behind the couch was a very familiar person from a couple of weeks previously. And I have to admit; I was almost surprised to find him with his feet planted firmly on the ground, and no rope around his neck.

Although both Sebastian and Ciel were in front of me, it was very clear that they were both completely caught off guard at their unexpected guests.

It was all that I could do to stifle a laugh.

"Madame Red! Lau! What are you doing here!" demanded Ciel, somewhere between shock horror and embarrassment.

The three of them all stood and turned to acknowledge our arrival, "My! You're early!" exclaimed the woman in red (more than presumably Madame Red) happily.

The Asian man (again, obviously Lau) smiled enigmatically, "Since you have come it must mean –"

" –The Queen's Watchdog is on the move, correct?" finished Madame Red, and almost immediately the tension in the room seemed to rise.

For a beat, there was silence, and then Madame Red, looking at me for the first time, exclaimed, "And who is this? You didn't tell me you had another guest!"

I opened my to explain that I was Ciel's 'sister' recently returned from France, but Ciel cut me off saying, "She is a servant of her majesty, and is currently going under the guise of an older sister returned from her studies in France."

I blinked in surprise, why was the sudden change of identity necessary, exactly? However Sebastian stepped back and said quietly, "Madame Red is the Young Master's Aunt."

My mouth formed a small 'O', as I desperately tried to recall ever hearing of a Madame Red at any point in the past, but I quickly recovered and waved sheepishly, "My name is Skye, a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh no," she gushed, although she turned away to continue rummaging about the room in search of tea leaves, "the pleasure is all mine."

After a silence of the slightly awkward kind, she turned back "Now, Ciel, where do you keep the tea in this place?"

* * *

Jude Cotton licked his fingers thoughtfully, as his elder sister Claudia skulked moodily around the corners of the alley way they stood in.

"Claudia," his said, through a mouthful of dead rat, "how will you know when you find what we're looking for?"

Claudia turned sharply around and glared pointedly at Jude, "I'll know what I've found, because I'll have found it. Dimwit," she snapped, and turned her attention back to skulking around.

Jude nodded to himself for a moment, downing the last rat – which he mournfully noted was not quite so fresh as the others, "but how will you know if that's what you were looking for?"

"Ugh, honestly, and you call yourself a cambion, use your brain for once – I'll know if what I've found is what I was looking for, because I know what I'm looking for. So shut it."

"Whore."

"Dimwit."

Both the children scowled at each other briefly before Claudia suddenly cried out, "Ah-ha! Found it." And proceeded to pull at the air as though it were made of cloth. To Jude's utter surprise, the air responded to Claudia's touch as though it were indeed made of some flimsy material.

"How did you learn to do that?" he whispered in awe, leaning in to get a better look.

"God you're brainless Jude, how do you think I learnt it? From that fool Peter? Really," she muttered, rolling her eyes for the umpteenth time.

Roughly, she latched onto Jude's wrist and pulled him towards the tear in the air. "Oh come on you idiot," she hissed at his protesting shout, "We don't have enough time for you to stand around moaning. We have a reaper to find."

"But why," he moaned piteously, "do you have to find the reaper?"

If Claudia ever answered, Jude would never know, because at that instant, it seemed as though the world around him rushed by with a sudden, angry 'voom!' and in doing so, tried to drag his insides along with it, and yet, almost as soon as the 'voom' had begun it finished, and he found himself stumbling along behind his sister as he tried desperately to blink the flashing lights out of his teary eyes.

"Excuse me," snapped a slightly bemused voice from somewhere in front of him, "Children are not permitted to be within the library, who are you, and how did you get here?"

Blinking desperately, poor, tired, Jude finally managed to allow his eyes to adjust to the lights around him, and found himself facing a reaper of the stuck-up, bookish variety with short black hair and an increasingly frustrated facial expression. Moreover, he was no longer standing in a damp, dark alley somewhere in the vicinity of Whitechapel, but in an impossibly large room, which – much to his alarm – was filled entirely with books. 'A library' he scowled inwardly, and considered for a moment whether there was a chance he could go back through the hole in the air before it was too late.

"That's hardly important," said Claudia uncaringly, her voice bringing Jude back from his brief revere, and before the reaper could say anything more she intervened with an "I, and my brother, have information in regards to one a.w.o.l. Grell Sutcliffe, and we shall relay this information in return for a favour."

"Oh yes?" said the reaper, clearly stressed and bemused at the sudden bizarre appearance of two children the library, "and what might that favour be?"

Jude noticed forlornly that Claudia's disposition seemed to become all the more pleased at her small triumph, and he wished, not for the last time, that he knew what exactly was going on around here, and why he had to be born into such a ridiculous family.

"We would like you to relay a message to the eldest female in the company of one Ciel Phantomhive," She declared, a smug grin sneaking onto her face.

"And what would that message be?" groaned the reaper, rubbing his temples frustratedly, "I _hardly_ have time to be doing this," he moaned, "so make it worth my while."

"Tell her: 'Amelia is coming to get her'."

* * *

_Oh, hello pathetically undramatic chapter ending, how are you today?_

_If any of that makes sense to you, I applaud your perception and possible psychic abilities.  
Any way, things are still very tumultuous around here, so it might take a while for me to get back into the swing of things. I'll edit the past chapters for sure, and I promise under no circumstances will I abandon this thing. **_

A thousand more apologies! D:

_ciaos for now. _


End file.
